


the afterlife is calling

by BloodstainedBlonde



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Death, Explosions, GTA AU, GTA style set up, Guerrilla Warfare, M/M, Murder, Mutiny, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Shock, Tomorrow When the War Began inspired AU, Violence, War, i made it as close as possible to geographically accurate in some situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodstainedBlonde/pseuds/BloodstainedBlonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Los Santos is falling. San Andreas is at war. </p><p>The invasion, calculated and played out by a mysterious man behind a mask, kicks off on New Years Eve. Gavin and Geoff escape the worst of it, hiding out in the mountains with Jack, the man who saves them.</p><p>But fate finds them going back into the city, time and time again. They find others - Ray, hiding out in a convenience store. Michael, the rebel. The streets of Los Santos are overrun with soldiers, flushing out the survivors and taking few hostages.  </p><p>The war's not ending anytime soon. So they start fighting back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. legends tell of men like you

**Author's Note:**

> if you've ever read Tomorrow When the War Began, you'll know that this isn't going to be a typical war fic. it's based on Guerrilla Warfare, which defines as "a form of irregular warfare in which a small group of combatants such as armed civilians or irregulars use military tactics including to fight a larger and less-mobile military."
> 
> Note this is also GTA AU - it's in the GTA worlds. There's brief mentions of other GTA places - vice/liberty city ect, but they play no big part. 
> 
> This chapter is establishing backstory - it's not focused on this pov, so expect the following chapters to be different. It's also mostly linear narration, so the first few chapters are a slow kind of build up. 
> 
> I think that's all I needed to say. I've got a lot of mixed emotions about this fic, because it gets so intense in later chapters I'm kinda exhausted, but I have enough to start uploading for now, and I hope it'll kick me into gear to keep writing it.
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <3

Tensions were high.

Along the shores of Vice City, thousands of soldiers were spread out, biding their time in amongst the thick atmosphere of anticipation and excitement. Military equipment lined the outer edge of the smaller nation - submarines, freighter ships, sea planes, jets - anything and everything they could secure in utmost secret and transport to the abandoned coastal line of Vice City.

It had taken months of planning, and now, in the dead of night, they waited for the signal.

And the network of men and women orchestrating the events, the politicians and upper class men filled with the same burning desire and corrupt greed for all San Andreas offered, prepared to give it.

Throughout the country and along the shores of the bordering nation, emotions were brewing. Apprehension mixed with anticipation, uneasiness clashed with excitement, and together it all created a fast flowing undercurrent of tension that seemed to sweep through San Andreas.

Secrets were spilled, names shared; times and dates passed in hushed whispers between loose lips as if it wasn't too late to stop it.

The plan was in motion, and _tense_ was far too much of an understatement.

And at the heart of it, a man behind a mask was moving between floors in an unnamed building, a phone at his ear. His stride was confident, his pace quick, and he made eye contact with none of the buildings occupants.

He had no time for them.

The information being fed into his ear was vital, and it required his full attention. Despite the speed with which it was being told to him and it's sheer complexity he retained it immediately, filing it away in his mind, nothing but the occasional noise of affirmation or request for certain information passing his lips.

Around him, the building seemed to be in chaos, harried men and women ducking in and out of rooms, talking directly into mouthpieces or shouting between each other as they rushed around.

And it _was_ pandemonium. Last minute details and new information were being passed around - the wrong people were overhearing, those who were incompetent having important information forced upon them.

It didn't matter. Nothing would stop them now. Not even the fact that every earpiece and every wire in the building was tapped. Because no information would escape this building. In fact, very few of the people inside it would, either.

Only him.

It was only common courtesy. Trust no one.

The men and women here were pawns, playing a miniscule part in the grand scheme of things, unimportant and in his mind, pointless now. They'd done their job, and their fate had been sealed the moment they agreed to playing a part in the takeover of their own country.

He hung up the phone and immediately dialed a new number, fingers flying across the keypad with efficiency.

It had not been his plan to take over San Andreas, yet through a force that extended beyond his own aspirations, he was now one of the masterminds behind the operation. It was almost incomprehensible to most. Such a grand scale plan was previously unheard of.

But he had made it all possible. Through his sheer cunning, intelligence, and a little bit of manipulation and deception, he'd proved himself, gained the acceptance of the others - as if he needed it, but it was a useful thing to have - and little by little, step by step, shown them how such a grandiose idea could be made reality.

Many questioned his loyalty, but what it came down to was this.

He did not care for the resources, the wealth, the goldmine that San Andreas was. He cared for none of the things that inspired the men before him to plan to take over - not riches, not fame, not success.

He had no intentions to take _his fair share_ of the spoils of war.

Name him crazy. Name him what you may, though his name was something few men yet knew.

He was the man behind the mask. He was the man who'd come from nowhere, out of the shadows and into the light of power.

And that was all he wanted.

Of course, he had some alternate aspirations - taking down the web of manipulation and lies and treachery that San Andreas had been built on, for starters. Rebuilding things a little more to his satisfaction.

But these were not goals that seemed to garner understanding and agreement, so he kept such ambitions to himself. He had few allies in this business, and fewer did he trust.

He dialled yet another number, but this one was for something else.

The person on the other end of the phone picked up. There were no frivolous greetings exchanged.

"No names," he said immediately. The phone was not tapped, but the wires ran throughout the whole building. Except for places he had personally cleaned out, the whole area was a nearly unavoidable honeypot of deception and betrayal - rigged to fuck everyone over.

Not him. He was smarter.

A voice came through the phone, tinny, but undeniably female. "It's not too late to back out, you know. Run away. Get out of this before you're in any deeper."

The man behind the mask shook his head as he walked into a small, empty room. He closed the door behind him, and locked it for good measure, though he returned his free hand immediately to the gun on his belt. "Appreciated. I think I'll stay. It may not be too late for me to back out, but this is happening, whether I lead it or not."

"And you'd rather stay and reap the benefits."

"What can I say, I'm not a fan of letting other people gain from my success."

A noise of impatience. "You know they're all going to turn on you. Don't do this to yourself."

He shook his head again, well aware she couldn't see him. "Don't be so sure of it," he said. "Of course I'll play it safe, and of course I'll be wary. But if somebody can see a way to get power without putting themselves in danger, they're _more_ than happy to let someone else do the dirty work, Linds."

There was a brief pause. "I thought you said no names."

"Different place. It's safe."

"For you, maybe, not for me."

He hummed thoughtfully, then steered it back to the previous point. "They think I'm their pawn," he reminded easily. "A very odd, potentially _dangerous_ pawn, but one none the less, and somebody they can control."

"And if they realise? You don't exactly put out a trusting face. Or any face." She gave a bitter laugh. "Wearing a mask and going only by a last name doesn't really inspire _trust_ in people, Ry-"

He spoke over her loudly. "Then that's something that will be dealt with as it comes." For a moment, he dropped the cold, professional demeanour, opting for a more familiar but rarely shown side. "Have a little faith, Linds. I haven't made it this far for nothing."

She didn't rise to it. "Look," she started, and there was a rustling on the other side of the phone. "Look. I'm not in any big-shot positions. I don't get word from anyone who's _anyone_. But that means I hear things, shit that goes through the ranks - gossip."

"Which is why I'm pleased to have you on my side," he began.

"And _nobody_ trusts you," she spoke over him. "Not a soul. I know your entire plan depends on creating this facade, on having nobody know who you are or what your real plan is, and the fact that you know that, but they're not stupid. Everyone has their suspicions, as they do with everyone - but that mask doesn't help matters, and neither does the fact that the two people who opposed you literally disappeared off the face of the planet."

"What's your point?"

"My point is they aren't as stupid as they seem."

"And they might turn on me, and they might overthrow me, yes. That is a very valid concern. But it's not relevant right now. Right now, everyone knows this is happening because of me. That's enough to keep them in line. And like I said, have a little faith - I've got things planned to keep them that way."

"What if it's not them? What if you miscalculated? What if your assumptions are wrong? What if Liberty City retaliates? What if Vice City doesn't side with us?" She shot question after question at him, and he waited patiently through it. "You said it yourself," she said finally, "It's a very delicate balance, and if anyone fucks up once, then it'll start a shit storm we can't even imagine."

He shook his head. "Their hands are tied. They can't make a move. Lindsay, politics are complex, but they're also simple. You have the right cards, you play them well, and it's easy."

Lindsay sounded tired, weary, when she spoke her next words. "You're not indestructible," she reminded. "I've known you a long time, and I've been telling you this for all of it. You aim high enough, you might just be the next Icarus."

"Words of wisdom," he intoned. "If you'll excuse me, I have a country to take over."

There was no response, just the sound of the dial tone.

He flipped the phone shut and put it on the ground with a sigh. Then, very carefully, he pulled out his gun and shot it.

Shards of plastic and metal flew everywhere, ricocheting off his mask and peppering the ground around him. He didn't react, simply pocketed the gun and turned around, opening the door once more.

The hallway was empty and silent. He had his suspicions the entire building would be.

With an indifferent glance at the time, he nodded. Final preparations would be complete, and soon, the invasion would begin.

Off the coast of San Andreas, in a building that marked all who had stepped foot in it for death, Ryan Haywood counted down the seconds until the invasion of San Andreas began.


	2. a road well travelled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more... slow buildy world buildy stuff, hints and nudges.   
> i really really appreciated the feedback!! thank you <3
> 
> find me at ragamuffiin on tumblr

_Across the country, earlier that day._

The regular citizens of San Andreas were waking, starting their daily activities with a sense of comfort and security formed through years of repetition and monotony. Underneath it ran a small thrum of anticipation that was shared throughout the big city - New Years Eve always washed away the sense of being in a rut, at least temporarily, offering a break and some relief for the majority of those who looked forward to a change in routine.

Parties were planned, some bigger than others - the parade that marched around Downtown Los Santos was reputed as the party of the year, every year - and the thrill of anticipation and excitement would only grow as the day wore on.

Yet, when Gavin opened his eyes that morning, his first thought was _something is wrong_.

He couldn't explain what, couldn't put a name to it - just felt it on a deeper, instinctual level, something within him shifting and shuddering with the uneasy realisation, pulling him from a deeper sleep and slipping him into consciousness.

As if to confirm it, the house was eerily silent. Daylight was shining through the window despite the curtains, and he could tell it was early enough that Geoff should be up and about, packing the car.

But there was no noise. No clattering in the kitchen, no pipes running water for the shower, not even the television.

Slowly, with uneasiness easing adrenaline through him, Gavin started to pull himself upright. He got halfway into a sitting position and paused, the feeling intensifying, and he was about to kick his covers off and call for Geoff when a yell tore through the air.

" _Wake up, motherfucker!_ "

And Geoff landed on top of him.

Gavin couldn't even get a word out before he was knocked back to the mattress, barely avoiding smacking into the headboard. The air flew out of him and he let out a pitiful groan as Geoff's laughter echoed through the small room.

"Wakey wakey chocolate shakey," the tattooed man greeted cheerfully, flopped happily on top of him and still snickering with delight. "It's eight o' three. I gave you a whole three minutes of sleep in while I did some extra really exhausting work."

"My lungs," Gavin wheezed. He shoved ineffectually at Geoff, trying to move him so he could breathe properly, because the older man was slowly but surely pressing down on his chest.

Geoff got the point and rolled off of him, landing on the bed next to him.

"Don't you care about all the hard work I did? I _packed_ , dude." He arched an eyebrow at him. "The thing you haven't done yet."

Gavin wanted to complain, but he didn't have a chance to get a word out before Geoff climbed to his feet with a groan and left the room, shouting a hearty " _Get the fuck up!_ " back over his shoulder as he went.

The sound of whistling now echoed down the halls, chasing away the memory of _wrong, bad, off,_ and replacing it with a sense of relief as the adrenaline from his startling wake up began to fade.

He was left looking up at the ceiling in exasperation, debating whether to obey Geoff and get up, or lie around until the older man inevitably returned again to drag him out.

But Geoff would probably return with a glass of water to pour on him, and there wasn't any point trying to get back to sleep now - there wasn't any chance, especially not with the ache in his ribcage where he'd taken the brunt of the impact.

He resigned himself to getting up with a sigh.

As he stretched out, untensing his muscles, laughter bubbled up in his chest, directed at himself. He'd felt so unnerved when he'd woken up, so apprehensive and anxious and wrong, yet it had ended up being Geoff doing his regular dumb stuff.

Gavin would have to get him back somehow. Maybe when he was driving.

So with a groan, and a few muttered complaints, he kicked his covers off and got up to follow the tattooed man into the kitchen.

He didn't think twice about it, the uneasiness from his odd wake up attributed towards Geoff and his rude awakening. The idea of delving further into it was lost on him, and the scene was already slipping from his mind as he prepared for the day ahead.

\----

 

Four hours, three pranks and two deaths threats later, Gavin was standing alive and well in the middle of the doorway, admiring the six pack of booze he was holding. "It'd be a shame to leave you behind," he told the alcohol. "I think I'll save you for the grand finale."

He poked his head around the corner and squinted at Geoff. “Oi,” he called, and started towards him. "What about this one?"

"What about what," Geoff asked flatly, not bothering to glance his way. "I'm kinda busy here."

Gavin frowned at his back. "Well if you'd look and see-"

"Is it alcohol?"

Gavin hesitated. "No," he said, retracting his arm and hiding it behind his back.

"Mmhm. Hey, where's our cooler?"

"Which one? Booze or cold stuff?"

"Uh, booze."

"I dunno, thought you already packed it."

Geoff stood from where he'd been bent over, rummaging around in the back of their car, to look at him in exasperation. "Are you serious? Do I have to do everything around here, asshole?"

"Well-"

"I drag your ass out on New Years Eve, every year, for a week, for a nice time camping and relaxing and having a fucking sweet time, and you're just this unhelpful, ungrateful-"

"I love your fishing jamborees, Geoff!" Gavin squawked.

"- _hindering_ piece of shit who drinks all my booze and eats all my food and-"

Gavin threw his hands up. "Alright! I'll go pack the cooler. Jesus Christ."

"It's in the basement," Geoff called out after him, and laughed at his retreating back. "Now," he said to himself, turning back to the boxes he'd painstakingly arranged in the back of the car and rubbing his hands together, "while you do that, I'll finish packing these babies."

He reached out to readjust one of the boxes. There were about five in total, taking up most of the trunk space, each proudly labelled _fireworks_.

They had a wide array of exactly that poking out of the top. The tattooed man grinned and looked over the array of boxes appraisingly, adjusting this and that with careful precision until Gavin returned, lugging the cooler as well as an extra carton of booze.

"Bloody... thanks for the help, Geoffrey," he whined, practically dropping the carton.

"Not a problem," Geoff said cheerily. "Thanks for offering to drive us for like two hours straight, navigating through a dense ass forest, to give you the fireworks display of the year, every year. Oh, _wait._ You're _not_."

"Haven't got my license, have I," Gavin shrugged, and dumped the cooler into the backseat. "Can't be helped."

"It _could_ be if you, I don't know, _got your license._ " Geoff sighed and scrubbed at his forehead.

"Hey, I'm contributin'," Gavin defended. "Paid for some of the fireworks, didn't I?"

"Yeah, like, a quarter."

"Half!"

"A third."

"Better than nothing," Gavin returned smugly. "Now, you ready to go?"

Geoff sighed again. He closed the trunk and headed for the drivers side. "Ready as I'll ever be to be stuck in a car with _you_ for two hours."

"I _am_ pretty top," Gavin agreed cheerily, and plunked himself in the passengers seat, wriggling around for several moments to find a comfortable position. "Why else would you keep me around?"

"Uh, because I need someone to do all the grunt work and setting up?"

"Yeah, well," Gavin shrugged. "Still useful."

"I swear, it's the _only_ reason I keep you around. Christ, I can't believe I'm mid fucking thirties and the only real goddamn friend I have is you." He shook his head.

"Aw, Geoffers. You _love_ me!"

"I regret going to the army," Geoff sighed. "Maybe then I'd have a girlfriend. Or even a wife. Someone besides _you_ around me twenty four seven."

"Nah," Gavin disregarded. Geoff just scoffed. Ignoring him, Gavin twisted around in his seat and peered into the back, straining to see over the top of the backseat. "We got more fireworks than last year, didn't we?"

"Sure did."

"Awesome."

Geoff rolled the car windows down and started backing out of the driveway. Before he drove off, he paused, glancing back at the small home the two of them shared. "You did lock the doors, right?" he asked.

Gavin hesitated. "Yeah. 'Course."

"Wow."

"No, really! I did. C'mon, let's just go."

Unconvinced, Geoff shook his head, but he put the car in drive and obliged regardless. The area they lived in was quiet enough, and it wasn't like they had anything of value to steal.

They were scraping by, with Geoff's veteran fund and Gavin's shitty part time job, but it sure wasn't the lap of fucking luxury.

"Somethin' romantic about it, isn't there," Gavin began. Geoff groaned, loudly, but Gavin ignored the hint and kept talking. "Just two dudes, headin' up to a secluded cabin in the woods, far off from civilisation. Just you and I, settin' off our fireworks. Separated from the world, once a year, every year."

"Are you trying to get in my pants? Because I'll tell you now, I don't swing that way. Thought you would have figured that one out a few years ago."

"Aw, Geoffrey," Gavin laughed. "Funny."

He went quiet for a moment, tipping his head out the window to look at the sky. Distracted by the sudden quiet, Geoff glanced at him, and tried to follow his gaze up through the windshield, but he saw nothing before he had to turn back to the road.

"Weird," Gavin commented. He unclipped his seatbelt to lean more out the car.

"What is? I can't fucking _look_ , dickhead, I'm driving. And put your fucking seatbelt back on! Jesus Christ!"

"That's like, the fifth helicopter today," Gavin informed him, pulling his head back in the window and sitting back in his seat. "Just seems weird. Must be a fire or somethin'."

"Yeah, or idiots fucking shit up. It's New Years Eve, it's prime time for idiots to do stupid shit. Like us, for example. _Seatbelt._ "

Gavin laughed and clipped himself back in. "Nah, we know what we're doin'. We're practically experts." He eyed Geoff cheekily. "Well, _I_ am. Setting off fireworks is easy peasy when you know how to do it. Just a bit of experience and a bit of smarts," he tapped his head conspiratorially, "and you're golden!"

"Amazing," Geoff said. "I _already_ regret bringing you."

Gavin didn't look bothered. "You say that every year. Look!" he cried, before Geoff could retort, "There's another one! Told you there's been a heap."

"What, a helicopter? Yeah, and I told you it's prime time for idiots. Idiot."

"Might be true, Geoffrey, but guess what idiots like me can do that idiots like you can't."

"Let me guess," Geoff said dryly. "Drink."

"You know it!" Gavin cheered. He twisted in his seat again and began rummaging through one of the coolers in the backseat, breaking away a bottle. He pulled it into the front seat and cracked it open with a dramatic sigh.

"Remind me to drop you off at the next rest area," Geoff commented. He glanced over at Gavin, who was watching him smugly. "And that's not _technically_ legal," he reminded him, rolling his eyes.

"Technically, schmecnically," Gavin countered, intelligently, and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. "We're goin' off to set off an illegalfireworks show, in an unregistered cabin, on land we don't own. How's your fancy legality now, bitch?"

He gave a smug grin at Geoff and seemed content to leave it there. Geoff had just enough time to send a silent _thank you_ to the gods before Gavin piped up again.

"You know what's missing?" he asked.

Geoff took a moment to retract his prayer. "Your silence," he said flatly.

As usual, Gavin didn't give heed. "Some quality _tunes,_ " he said, looking at Geoff like he was an idiot.

"No," Geoff immediately said, then thought it through. "Alright. If it'll shut you up and make this road trip _any_ easier, then please. Knock yourself out." He paused. "Literally."

"Let's see what we've got," Gavin enthused, and jabbed at the radio. He ignored Geoff's cry of _"Careful!"_ and proceeded to meddle with the buttons, turning knobs and pressing things. "Ah!" he exclaimed, when he finally hit a station. "What's this?"

"Do you not know how to use a fucking radio?" Geoff demanded, his voice cracking.

Gavin continued ignoring him, and tried to tune in through the fuzziness. "It's bloody gibberish!" he exclaimed, disappointed, leaning in with eyebrows furrowing. "Where's the music?"

"Turn it up, I can't fucking hear it."

"Nah, it's bloody nonsense. Good bloody radio station, doesn't even have music," he said distastefully, as he obliged and turned it up anyway.

"Yeah, alright, that's bullshit. Turn it off," Geoff sighed. Then he paused, listening.

_...sitrep... airborne--_

It crackled loudly, drowning out the next words, then-

_... Haywood--_

"Haywood," Gavin laughed, "hey would you blow me?"

"Shut up." Geoff frowned and leaned in, but Gavin chose that moment to hit at the radio with a petulant noise and succeed in changing the station.

"Hey!" Geoff cried. "Put it the fuck back!"

"Why? It was all gibberish anyway. _This_ is more like it."

"No, I recognised some of that shit-"

Gavin wasn't listening. ” _And I, will always loooove youuu,_ " he sung, holding his hands out to Geoff, who groaned and hit at him with one hand while staring resolutely at the road with the other.

"You're gunna get us in a car crash," he complained.

" _My darling, you-"_

"Fuck me," Geoff said, and turned the radio off all together.


	3. the water's deep but the air is colder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think this is longer than both other chapters put together lmao  
> im just impatient ill be real ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ because it all kicks off next chapter! 
> 
>    
> find me at ragamuffiin on tumblr !

The second they stepped foot onto the grass around the cabin, Gavin, very wisely, fled.

He'd been playing a dangerous game with Geoff's temper for the last fourty minutes, teasing and jabbing at him and generally being _very fucking annoying._ Overall, Geoff had questioned his sanity about twenty eight times, and threatened to kick Gavin out of the car at least double that. Eventually, they arrived, without any 'rash decisions'. Like literally leaving Gavin for dead.

Geoff didn't think it sounded rash at all. He thought it sounded very well thought out, justified, and not to mention _enjoyable._

But Gavin made a beeline straight for the cabin and relative safety, leaving Geoff slumped over the steering wheel, groaning.

Gavin knew he'd be fine. He'd get up, get a drink, and his tolerance level would rise enough to handle Gavin for a few more hours. 

Or at least until Gavin got him back for this morning.

With a grin that meant no good, Gavin paused for a minute at the doorway, eyeing the familiar sign above the door that read "Geoff's Fishing Cabin". It was a wooden plaque, and the words had been carved into it by hand, the messy writing almost childish in its simplicity.

Gavin ducked his head and smiled properly, because there wasn't much left of Geoff's childhood that he could claim his own, but at least he had this.

When Geoff had left to join the army, barely out of his teens, his parents had given up the house Geoff had been raised in. Without warning, they'd packed up, and moved to some obscure part of San Andreas. No goodbye note, no new address, but it wasn't much of a surprise - Geoff had gone to the army and stayed so long because it was sure as fuck better than home.

He hadn't sent them a letter the entire time he was gone, nor got in contact when he was on leave, so maybe it wasn't the biggest surprise that nobody had bothered to warn him that he had nothing to come back to. They probably just never expected him to be back.

Either way, when Geoff had returned, it had been to a house that wasn't his anymore, and he was faced with nowhere to stay, no money, and no idea what he was going to do with his life.

So he went to leave, no goal in mind, and made it all the way to the airport before he met Gavin. The younger boy had approached him, cheeky grin and eighty percent nose, all "'ello!" and "I don't spose you could help me? I'm lookin' for a hostel."

Geoff had laughed, said he needed one himself, and so they'd found one together.

If you asked Geoff, he'd say it all went downhill from there. If you asked Gavin, he'd say he didn't think anyone's life _really_ started until Gavin was around, Geoff included. If you asked Gavin quietly, when Geoff wasn't there, he'd say that in all honesty, he thought he'd pulled Geoff from the edge of depression.

Regardless of the truth, Gavin did give Geoff what he needed - distraction from his return from deployment, a break in the loneliness, and something to goddamn laugh about. If nothing else, Gavin had helped him keep his feet under him while he adjusted to civilian life.

So when Geoff had finally gotten cleared for a veteran fund that let him buy a house with no down payments, he'd offered the only thing he really could - a proper house for Gavin to live in.

And despite his constant complaining, it was worth it.

Because seeing Gavin light up when he entered the house for the first time, watching him go from room to room, in and out, claiming this and that and dibbing this as his bedroom and that as a sunroom while Geoff stood in the doorway, laughing harder than he could ever remember laughing before -

\- it felt like home.

And only a few weeks after that, Geoff had trusted him enough to take him up here and show him the only thing in the world that meant anything to him anymore.

An old, dirty wood cabin in the middle of a forest, nearly two hours drive from civilisation. It was run down, smelt kind of bad, and had no electricity or plumbing to speak of - but Geoff had loved it from the moment he found out it existed, and so did Gavin.

It was tricky to get to, and without knowledge of the path, near impossible to find. A long, winding drive through old, forgotten roads that practically didn't exist anymore, past landmarks only discernible with familiarity. The forest itself started barely ten minutes out of town, on a turn off from the highway onto an old dirt road.

The cabin was old - older than Geoff, and older than his parents.

Yet it had weathered unseen years of potential decay and damage, and the worst Gavin could say about it was that sometimes it smelled bad.

Geoff's parents had either forgotten about it or not given two shits about it, since it wasn't technically legal property - some great-great-grandparents or other had built it from the ground up, and abandoned it shortly after. Then the coordinates had been passed on for a few generations, but nobody had actually made use of it aside from Geoff.

Gavin didn't think anybody but the two of them even knew it existed.

With that thought on his mind, he grinned and pushed open the creaky screen door. It never failed to excite him, this time of year, this trip - they called it the annual fishing jamboree, but Gavin was really mostly excited about the fireworks. Even if he had to set each and every one up, he was fine with it - Geoff wasn't lying when he said Gavin had a skill for pyrotechnics. He knew just what to place, just when to place it, and timing and fuse lengths were no problem for him.

As he advanced slowly forward, feeling for any weak or decaying floorboards, he sniffed. He was tentative, wary for any animals that may have gotten inside and not gotten back out again.

When he reached the middle of the room and found nothing more than the customary sensory assault of dust, he was satisfied.

He retreated back outside, making his way toward the car. Geoff had already lifted out their duffel bags, and when Gavin poked his head around the side of the car, Geoff was there, rummaging through their boxes of fireworks.

"Is it all G?" Gavin asked.

"Yep. Make yourself useful, start carrying our shit inside."

"... fine." He grabbed their duffels, one in each hand, and began lugging them back up the steps to the cabin, complaining all the way. When he deposited them in the middle of the living room, which was really just a glorified wooden square with a fireplace, a rug, a lounge, and table and some chairs, it was with a loud groan.

"Stop complaining!" Geoff's words echoed through the woods. Gavin just smirked at the ground and picked Geoff's bag back up, carrying it to his room.

All that distinguished his room and Geoff's was the furniture - Geoff's held a double bed, a dresser, a bedside table and a window with curtains that looked stale and dull.

Gavin's room was worse, with a slightly smaller double, a dresser with a mirror attached, and a window with the same shitty curtains, just in slightly better shape.

All the furniture had been painstakingly bought and transported, bit by bit, by Geoff and Gavin. When the tattooed man had originally shown Gavin the cabin, it had been desolate, and depressingly bare. Gavin, naturally, had desired to spruce it up, and after some money on second hand furniture and a significant amount of time transporting said furniture, they'd made the previously abandoned cabin almost homey.

Not to mention, they'd gotten a fucking _sink._ It wasn't a shower, or even a toilet, but they had a sink with actual working plumbing. It had been Geoff's idea, though he attributed it to Gavin - why not try and get working plumbing, since they were already renovating?

The answer was because it was _very fucking hard._ The sink itself wasn't a problem, and neither was the drainage system- however, connecting pipes to create flowing water for on hand use through a faucet spawned the first of many problems. Mainly, there weren't any fucking pipes.

Several weeks later, a fair bit of money, and a long length of piping running down to a small water tank that was possibly the most difficult thing to transport, and they had the ability to collect and store water.

Add a non-electrical water filter, more pipes leading to the deep pool at the base of the small waterfall, and a hand pump, they were looking pretty. Then it was just a matter of connecting all the pipes properly, sealing and fixing all the things fucked up along the way, and they'd created their first innovative project to make Geoff's cabin a little more tolerable for longer stays.

The first and the last. Eyeing it warily, Gavin still couldn't believe that even after all their effort, they'd gotten it to work at all.

"What's the time?" Geoff demanded, appearing at the door several boxes of food in his hands.

Gavin shrugged. "Dick o' clock," he replied. "Dunno. After five. Time for some chow?"

"It's called _food_. Speak English."

"Is that a no for eating, then?"

Geoff sighed, just as Gavin knew he would, and walked towards the small cabinets they had against the wall. He set down the boxes of food and began pulling out the individual items, setting them aside into groups.

They had a small array of vegetables, more for the illusion of health than for actual food, although they did use them as sides to some dishes - generally the steaks, which were the customary first night meals.

There were spreads, a loaf of bread that was fresh and would hopefully last for the most part of the week, single serve packs of cereals, canned foods, the customary baked beans, and soups.

Gavin ventured closer. "Looks good," he edged.

"Don't touch."

"Wasn't gunna."

There was also a block of chocolate, which he immediately reached for.

Geoff slapped his hand away, but Gavin got it regardless, a delighted squeak escaping him as he danced out of range. "Wow. Not even gunna supplement that with anything proper? Say, some meat? Fuck, even fruit?"

"Nah. Unless you wanna cook tonight."

Geoff scoffed. "Not unless you magic up a barbeque. I hate cooking shit over a fire."

"Not even some nice steaks?" Gavin said innocently. "You know, the ones that'll go off soon if we don't eat em? The ones we brought? Specifically for you to cook tonight?"

"Nope," Geoff said stubbornly. He turned and walked out the door.

"Then where are you going?" Gavin called after him, wandering out onto the porch after Geoff.

"Nowhere. Why aren't you setting up our fireworks display? You know where everything is."

"Just looking after myself, makin' sure I won't starve."

"Yeah, well. If you don't start setting up that display before it gets dark then I'm gunna make _sure_ you starve. It's a big forest, buddy. Lotta places to hide a body."

Gavin _err_ ed quietly. "I'll take my steak medium rare," he said, and then he was gone.

Geoff watched him retreat around the back of the house, towards the tiny, collapsing shed they kept firewood and the leftover plumbing supplies in.

Not to mention the firework stands. Made years back out of old wood with holes cut into them to hold the fireworks. It was always pick and choose with those, because with the variety of fireworks they acquired each year, there was no way to make suited stands.

But Gavin knew what they had, and he knew their stands, so Geoff had faith that he could make something work.

Until then, well. He had a fire to start and dinner to cook.

\--------

 

"Geoffrey!" Gavin hollered. He leaned back. "Come quick!"

"What? What is it?" The sounds of Geoff running towards the small plunge pool became apparent.

"Geoff! Quick!"

"I'm coming, asshole! What is it? Are you-" Geoff skidded into the small clearing around the base of the waterfall. " _What?_ " he cried, when he was faced with Gavin, perfectly alright, standing on the other side of the pool. "What the fuck?"

Gavin grinned. "What's wrong? You look a bit... _fired up._ "

Realisation hit Geoff like a tonne of bricks. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Oh _yeah, baby!_ " Gavin shouted, and lit the Roman candle he was holding.

Geoff stood there like an idiot for all of a few seconds before the delay ended and the first of the burning hot balls were shot at him. "Fuck!" he cried, ducking out of the way. The next ball fell short, but by then Gavin had bent to scoop up another candle, still aiming the first straight at him.

"I'd cover your face!" Gavin told him gleefully, as the next of the flaming balls was sent flying through the air, surprisingly well aimed. It hit Geoff right in the leg.

"Jesus _shit!_ " Geoff yelped, patting frantically at his shorts. "You hit me! You asshole!"

Gavin's laughter echoed throughout the forest.

"Fuck this!" Geoff cried. He ran across the shore of the plunge pool, ducking and weaving the next balls of burning light being fired at him. By the time he was nearly there Gavin had successfully lit the second Roman candle, and had aimed both his way.

Geoff reached him seconds later, and by then Gavin's first Roman candle was empty.

"Have mercy!" Gavin pleaded, as Geoff bore down on him.

"You didn't have mercy to my testicles when you nearly fucking _set them on fire!_ " Geoff cried. He snagged Gavin by the shirt and swung him, fully clothed, into the water. Laughing, he ducked to scoop up a handful of Roman candles and the spare lighter and ran back to the other side of the pool.

And opened fire on Gavin, who was climbing out of the water, dripping wet.

" _Argh_!" he screeched. " _Geoff_!"

Blurry eyed from laughter, Geoff managed to fit two more in his hand and light them. Then he dropped the lighter, braced himself, and aimed properly at Gavin. "Who's the bitch now!" he laughed.

Gavin wasn't listening. "You got me! Geoffrey!"

He danced around wildly, trying to weave past the erratic fireworks being shot at him. Geoff laughed and aimed for his feet. "Dance, bitch," he laughed, as Gavin was forced to jump and hop around, trying to avoid the burning hot fireworks at his feet.

"Careful!" he shouted, over the noise, "You'll set the pile off!"

"Good!" Geoff laughed. "Then you'll be _fucked_!"

His statement was emphasised by an almost synchronised triple fire, shooting three more balls of burning light straight at Gavin's feet.

" _Oh!_ " he cried, and hopped around, making odd squawking noises. "Jesus H _\- Geoffrey!_ This isn't fair!"

"You launched a surprise attack on me!" Geoff shouted back, relentless. "You deserve every bit of it!"

"You shoved me in the water! Fair's fa- _I'm on fire! Geoff! Ah!_ "

"You're not on fire," Geoff managed, wheezing it out between laughter. Gavin was patting at his torso repeatedly, refusing to believe he wasn't going to ignite thanks to the ball that had hit him right in the hip.

Watching him, Geoff had to bend double and drop his empty candles to grab his knees, trying to breathe through the laughter. He doubted Gavin even heard him, but it didn't matter, because the smaller man used the opportunity to fish out his lighter from his pocket and grab a Roman candle.

Geoff looked up just in time to see Gavin fumbling with the lighter. "Oh no you don't," Geoff cried, reaching for another firework, "Over my dead _body!_ "

His words were punctuated by the lighting of his next candle.

Gavin was left to flick his lighter uselessly. "It's not workin'!" he cried. "It got drenched! No!"

"Keep trying, maybe it'll start," Geoff advised, as the delay ended and the first ball was shot.

"This isn't fair! I only shot like, two at you!" He dodged the first sent his way, and laughed at the second when it went wildly left. "Ahah!" he yelled, before Geoff could say anything. "It's workin'!"

"Then stop standing there and _shoot_ ," Geoff laughed. Still aiming his candle with his left hand, he bent down to pick up his last remaining one, and managed to secure a grip on it along with the first.

Gavin didn't need to be told twice. "Suck on _this!_ " he declared, and his first ball went straight into the water.

Geoff was laughing too hard to rub it in.

"I mean... _this!_ "

His second shot was more successful, and so was his third. Both distracted Geoff from aiming at him, forcing the tattooed man to dodge and weave. That left Gavin with the upper hand, and he was quick to use the time to grab another candle and light it.

But by doing so, his aim had declined dramatically, and Geoff was brave enough to stop moving and aim squarely at him.

"You mess with the best, you die like the rest!" Geoff shouted, and lit his final candle as the other ran out.

"That's pathetic!" Gavin spluttered, as he nearly fell over trying to avoid the next barrage of flaming firework balls. "What a shitty catchphrase!"

"I'd like to see _you_ do better!" Geoff returned.

"Don't need to! My superior aim says it all!"

"Superior aim my ass- _fuck! You motherfucker!_ "

Gavin exploded into laughter as Geoff's shirt caught fire. "Jesus Christ!" he hollered, patting frantically at his shirt.

"Stop, drop and roll," Gavin offered through laughter, but Geoff had already dived into the plunge pool.

When he emerged, head breaking above the waters surface, Gavin only laughed harder.

"Fuck you!" Geoff cried, spitting out water. "I could have _died,_ asshole." He began swimming towards Gavin.

Gavin couldn't answer, still gasping laughter.

"Wasn't so funny when _you_ almost caught fire," Geoff said bitterly, wringing out his tattered and flame licked shirt.

"But you _actually_ caught fire. That hasn't happened in like... three years," Gavin managed. He was on the ground, clutching his stomach.

"I can't believe you're laughing about this," Geoff said, but he was smiling.

"Pfft," Gavin replied, when he'd gotten himself under control, only the occasional giggle escaping him. "You're dumb enough to risk it, you can handle it."

"One day we're gunna lose an eye. Or a hand. Or something important. Did I mention you almost hit me in the nuts?"

Gavin nearly sprayed him with spit when he laughed in his face.

"Asshole," Geoff sighed, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face. "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"At least we're both wet," Gavin offered, in a poor attempt at making him feel better. "And I mean, I still had a few Romans left... woulda been easy to keep shootin' em at you while you were in the water."

"Yeah, but you know I would have kicked your ass as soon as I was back on land." He paused. "Tell me at least you set up the display first."

Gavin looked offended. "Course! What do you think I've been doin' all this time?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if it took you that long to plan your surprise attack," Geoff shrugged.

" _Well_."

"Gavin-"

"I'm jokin'! Look, quick, before we have to grab the torches. Admire my infinite skill." He led Geoff away from the plunge pool, along the small stream that branched off it. The stream passed through a small gap in the forestry, barely big enough to be called a clearing, but that provided a clean, unbroken view of the sky above.

There, in the middle of it, sat their display stands, all propped up and ready to go.

"They're called flashlights, idiot," Geoff said, uselessly and a little late.

Gavin's only response was an emphatic scoff, and they headed towards first of the display stands. He watched as Geoff approached them appraisingly, but it was almost too dark to even see, so eventually Geoff just shrugged and nodded at Gavin. "Looks good, I guess. Did they all fit?"

"Nah. But most of them did. We can set the others off individually, if we need."

"Alrighty," Geoff said, looking around as if to check if they'd missed anything.

"We make a great team," Gavin said cheerfully. "You cooked a delicious dinner, and I set up the show! Dinner and a show."

"Except we already ate, so the dinner was before - it'd be dinner then a show."

" _Nah,"_ Gavin dismissed. "Come on, Geoffrey? Where's your New Years spirit?"

"I think it died when my soul did. So I guess when I met you."

Gavin laughed, even though Geoff wasn't entirely joking. But Gavin just continued, "I know just what you need! Some _bevs_."

Geoff tipped his head in acknowledgment. "You're not fucking wrong there. Let's get smashed."

Gavin nodded happily. "Absolutely _mullered_."

\-----

Several hours and many bevs later, they'd done exactly that, and they found themselves standing in front of the display.

They stared at it for a few moments.

'So...' Gavin fidgeted. 'Can I have the lighter?'

"I don't know, Gavin, can you?" Geoff's response was automatic, because he wasn't paying attention, focused rather on the impressive looking display set up in the clearing ahead of him.

When he glanced away, Gavin was looking at him with big eyes. The light from the lantern Geoff carried flickered on his face, creating dancing shadows, and his eyes reflected the light right back at him.

Then, "Geoffrey," he whined, and any sentiment Geoff had associated with the moment was gone.

"I hate you," Geoff sighed.

"Aw, Geoffers," Gavin cooed, and staggered unimpressively into him.

"Alright," Geoff said, shaking his head. He pushed Gavin off him. "You're always so clingy when you're drunk."

"Well," Gavin started proudly. "Bein' a lightweight has its perks! Now c'mon, let's set this bitch up."

"Perks," Geoff repeated under his breath, laughing at him. "Like anyone would want your whiny ass tagging after them. You know, the day you can find someone to put up with your shit, I will personally congratulate them. And then pay for their therapy."

Gavin was only half listening. "Yeah, well, shut up."

Geoff burst into laughter. "Alright," he laughed. "Let's start the fireworks. Is it twelve yet?"

"Almost. Why, you wanna be my midnight kiss?" Gavin waggled his eyebrows at him.

"You wish you could get a piece of this," Geoff laughed. He took another swig of the drink he'd brought with him, buzzing pleasantly. The swig turned into draining the remainder of the bottle, and when he'd finished that, he threw it on the ground next to the display case. They'd clean it tomorrow.

Then, when he'd gestured at Gavin and promptly been handled another bottle, he turned to the display. "Did you have a certain order you wanted them lit?"

Gavin's answer wasn't very helpful. "All at once!"

"Really," Geoff repeated. He was almost drunk enough to consider it.

"Really!" Gavin pressed. "Display number one is sequential! D number dos is concurrent, the third one is a combo, and then the fourth is just a mixture!"

Geoff stared at him. "English, please?"

Gavin grinned at him, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I connected all the fuses. They'll," he said, pointing, "fire sequentially, they will. The end fuse is taped in a bundle, with some handy dandy maskin' tape - just light the whole bunch, and one by one, they'll go! That's for the sequential one. The _concurrent_ one will-"

"Alright, I take it back! I don't know and I don't care. Just make pretty things go boom."

Gavin winked at him. "Light 'em up then."

Geoff hesitated. "How long's the fuse?"

"Believe me, they're _long_ as _dicks,_ dude. I had to cut some, to make them all chronological," he slurred the word impressively, "but they're all G. I burn tested them, ye of little faith."

"Right," Geoff nodded.

He handed him the lighter and Gavin was off, moving between each stand. The stands themselves weren't in chronological order, for whatever god forsaken reason - distantly, Geoff wondered how on earth Gavin's brain actually worked - but he seemed to know exactly which one to go to, and how long to wait before lighting them.

"You're too drunk to stand but you can ramble on about sequins and fuse lengths and currents and a whole bunch of shit," Geoff said disbelievingly.

Gavin, surprisingly, heard him, and swivelled his head to look at him from the furthest display. "It's my talent!" he yelled. He fiddled with the display for a few seconds while Geoff squinted at him, before he came back, bursting into a sprint.

"Jesus what the _fuck_!," Geoff cried, and had no choice but to catch Gavin before he slammed into him. "Why?" he demanded, voice cracking.

Gavin shrugged, cheeks tinted red with the cooling night air as Geoff set him down. "Looked like fun," he grinned. "Now come on! Let's get our swimmy bevs on!"

He didn't even wait for Geoff, just headed directly towards the plunge pool. Geoff was once more forced into action, with the threat of being left behind in the dark (because of course Gavin took the fucking lamp) spurring him into following.

"Wait up, asshole!" he called after him, his warbling cry echoing throughout the forest. "If I die, who'll attend my funeral? Not fucking you! You won't be invited! In fact, you're cordially _uninvited!_ How's that taste, huh?"

He was still yelling obscenities by the time he caught up to Gavin, red faced and out of breath, the world tipping and spinning around him. "Goddamn, I'm drunk," he managed.

"You know what helps with sobering up?" Gavin asked him.

Geoff swore. "No-"

He ended up back in the pool at the base of the waterfall once more, though this time, not of his own accord.

"Try that one on for size," Gavin grinned at him. "Bit of the old payback, tastes quite nice, actually. Sweet, but with that complementary side of vin."

Treading water, Geoff wasn't quite able to formulate an expression that captured the essence of his response to that. Instead, he simply raised one hand above the water and tipped back so he was floating, and let himself drift.

"Grab me a drink," he heard himself call, his voice sounding weedy and odd, muffled by the water submerging his ears.

A second later, water hit him right in the face, as Gavin cannonballed into the water, two unopened drinks in hand. When he emerged, Geoff dunked him again, holding him under for a few seconds before allowing him back up.

Gavin was still choking up water when the first of the fireworks went off. "Finally," he muttered, and copped a mouthful of water for his efforts.

"Those fuses were good," Geoff nodded, still treading water. The lamp on the shore that had previously been their light source was dimmed in comparison to the bright lights the next fireworks offered as they ripped through the sky.

"We should definitely get 'em again next time," Gavin agreed, voice almost drowned out by the noise.

They watched the last sparks fall, and just as they faded, the next firework was up, lighting up the night sky in a flash of blue glory before it too began to fade, and, like clockwork, the next began.

"Fuckin' A," Geoff said.

"Those are the sequentials," Gavin informed him, to the _hiss_ and _crack_ of his next bottle opening. "I like 'em..." he trailed off to watch the next shoot up and explode with a bang. "Yeah, I like them."

"Glad to hear it," Geoff snorted, and nearly went underwater when he stopped treading water to try and open his drink. He succeeded, but with a face full of water, and when he emerged next the last of the previous firework had just died out.

They waterfall behind them drowned out the sounds of them treading water, but the explosions of the fireworks were easily heard over that. The fireworks lit up the water around them to a beautiful, deep blue that seemed to _glow_ , reflecting the lights and sparks right back at them.

Then, as Geoff finished his drink, allowing himself to knock into Gavin for the warm comfort of experiencing this with someone, the last firework faded and there was darkness.

They waited, and barely ten seconds later, the whole sky lit up as an entire row of fireworks was fired simultaneously, a kaleidoscope of colours accompanied by a resounding _bang._ Next to him, treading water slowly and head tilted to the stars, Gavin was smiling.

Geoff smiled, too, as the first row faded and the second began. Another impressive array of colours, complementing and contrasting, so bright it was hard to look at but too good to look away.

Gavin gave up on treading water, instead just floating on his back. Geoff took a cue and did the same, and he felt Gavin's hand grab hold of his shirt to stop them from floating away. The next row went up, and their attention was pinpointed.

By the time the simultaneous fireworks were finished, Geoff's drink was empty, so he pulled himself back into treading water.

"What're you doin'?" Gavin asked him. He held the last of his drink above the water, but Geoff could see it was empty. He'd probably spilled it.

"Drinks," Geoff just said in response. "Here, gimme your bottle."

"It's not empty," Gavin argued, and took a drink. A second later he sprayed it out everywhere, in unison with the fireworks beginning to shoot off from the third fireworks display stand.

"Yeah? How'd your rum taste?"

"It was bloody water," Gavin said sadly. He thrust it at Geoff and nearly sunk in doing so. "Here," he said, when he got his mouth above the water again. "Take it."

Obediently, Geoff drunkenly paddled his way to the shore where the lantern sat, along with some of the drinks and the remaining Roman candles they'd left earlier. He glanced back to see that Gavin had already resumed floating, looking weightless on his back like a starfish. Geoff shook his head and pulled two drinks out, returning to the water with a splash, too drunk to remember he could at least leave his shirt on the shore like Gavin did.

It didn't matter either way, because he was still soaked to the core, but Gavin still laughed at him when he rejoined him in the middle of the water.

"You missed some of the good ones," he complained, moments later, and Geoff just scoffed and shoved him.

Gavin, of course, shoved back. So Geoff dunked him, opened drink and all, and when Gavin came up spluttering to splash him in the face it started a water fight of epic proportions. For several long minutes, the fireworks overhead went ignored, until finally they tired themselves out and flopped onto their backs to watch the last of the fireworks.

Amongst the regular aerial repeaters and display tubes were some night parachutes, followed by whizzlers, which flew up into the air and span in wild circles before they faded, falling out of sight to the sound of new fireworks, the noise of rapid fire bangs that Geoff recognised as more Roman candles.

Finally, after a final row of more aerial repeaters, these ones intricate and intense, bright and so vivid it was almost palpable, the last sparks faded and fell, and Geoff and Gavin were left in darkness.

Gavin let out a low whistle. "That was _brilliant_!" he exclaimed, voice seeming exceedingly loud in the comparative silence of the aftermath. The constant splashing and running water of the waterfall behind them was a familiar noise, one that barely registered to them, so comforting it was like the sound of home.

"That was brilliant," Gavin repeated, softer. "I feel like everything is brilliant."

Lying there, in freezing water, drunk as hell with Gavin beside him, fireworks imprinted into the backs of his eyelids like they'd be there for eternity, Geoff couldn't help but agree.


	4. hello?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so shit kicks off
> 
>  
> 
> find me at ragamuffiin on tumblr

Hours later, when they were so cold they could barely move, they finally dragged themselves from the water. They whined and groaned and complained about the cold, but both of them were laughing, idiotic smiles still playing on their faces.

Surprisingly, Gavin had the foresight to take off his shirt and pants before he got in the water, an option he hadn't offered Geoff when he'd shoved him in, so as soon as he was on solid ground again he was able to jump straight into the dry clothes he had sitting by the bank.

Geoff, however, was forced to stand by and try not to shiver. He would have sworn he was so cold he should have sobered up, despite that he hadn't stopped drinking, but when they began their walk back he found he was still drunk.

Surprise surprise.  

Gavin, of course, was equally as drunk, and so they stumbled back to the cottage together, arms wrapped around themselves for warmth and laughter echoing in the darkness.

When they arrived, they groaned at themselves for not having the foresight to light the fire before they left. That preoccupied them for a little bit, or rather, left Gavin preoccupied, as he was the one sent out to the small shed to collect some firewood and kindling.

With a huff, some loud complaining, and the logical reasoning that " _You threw me in the goddamn water with all my clothes on, so you can be the one to get some goddamn wood to warm me the fuck up!_ ", and some muffled giggles as Gavin went out to collect kindling and firewood, Geoff changed into clothes that offered some degree of body heat.

Gavin had barely collected enough firewood and got his ass out of the creepy shed when his gaze was pulled upwards.

For a moment, he was confused - the sky looked like it was rippling, like it was being pulled in one direction. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and when they did he realised that the sky was perfectly still, but something was passing in front of it, blinking out the stars and moonlight for brief seconds as it passed.

The closer he looked, the more he could make out. Small, black shapes, flying far overhead in relative silence.

His first thought was _bats_ , which was then immediately dismissed, because whatever it was, there were a lot, and they were flying faster than any bat ever could. It took him a few moments too long to realise they were planes, flying low and fast, nearly invisible against the night sky.

"Weird," he commented to himself. He readjusted his grip on the firewood and went to climb the stairs again when the sound registered.

Low buzzing. The sound of hundreds of engines tearing through the night sky.

It was in tandem with another wave of planes - no, jets, in a perfect V formation, all travelling in the same direction. When they passed out of sight, he stayed just long enough to see the approach of another wave before he stumbled up the stairs, firewood in hand, and slammed through the screen door.

"Bloody jetty city central out there," he declared, and fell on his ass on the rug. The odd atmosphere disappeared as soon as he was back inside.

"Uh huh." Geoff ignored him and groped for the firewood.

For all intents and purposes, Geoff sounded relatively sober, apart from the occasional slur of his words, but when he went to sit next to Gavin on the rug in front of the fireplace he ended up stumbling across the floor and nearly landed on his ass.

He made it without tripping, but only thanks to the armchair he grabbed onto for support.

Gavin tipped his head back and laughed at him, falling against the brickwork of the fireplace with his shoulder. "You're mullered," he laughed.

"You're a mullet," Geoff returned. He crawled forward to focus on the fireplace. "Now before I freeze my extravagant ass off, let's get this thing going."

Ten minutes later, they had the fire started, and it took not even half that time to collapse in front of it and fall asleep.

The rest of the week went much the same - _endless drunken shenanigans._

Following the fireworks set up on New Years Eve, they spent each day alternatively slugging around and wreaking relative havoc, getting drunk and wandering through the surrounding forest, hiking up streams, anything and everything to keep themselves entertained.

A system of caves they'd previously seen but never explored was next on their list, and that preoccupied them for a few days before they realised they could only access but one of them, which was about the size of a small apartment room and flooded every time the rain came in and the nearby lake swelled.

Disappointed, but still cheered with the thrill of exploration and discovery, they proceeded to name it "Cave of Ass Spelunking" and laugh for a good few days.

They ate through their rations fast, as they always did, and tried their hand at fishing, which they always did as well, with relative success. Two years back, Geoff had bought proper fishing rods, and stored them in the little shed behind the cabin - he couldn't call it a Fishing Jamboree if they didn't try and catch any fish.

Between the fish they caught, their snacks, the supply of filtered water, their booze, and the freedom to have no obligations, the week they spent at Geoff's cabin flew fast.

"I'm callin' bullshit," Gavin informed him, when Geoff threw his duffel at him to pack in the car.

"Yeah?"

"Because, right, hear me out. I don't think it's _physically possible_ for the week to be over yet. Like, it doesn't feel like four days, let alone seven."

Geoff stopped to put his head in his hands. "How long, then?" he asked wearily.

Gavin actually thought about it. "Three days. Maybe four, at most. How long did you say we were here?"

"Eight days," Geoff informed him dryly. "Please tell me you'll drop this and _not_ talk about it all the way home."

"It's just-"

"No," Geoff said loudly. "Hey, incidentally, have you seen any sleeping pills?"

The joke went right over Gavin's head. "No, why?"

Geoff closed his eyes briefly. "Don't worry."

"Ohh, I get it," Gavin laughed.

"No you don't."

"Yeah, you're right. You ready to go, Geoffers?"

He didn't miss the longing look Geoff sent at the cabin, but he didn't comment on it, either.  "You packed everything?" Geoff asked in return. "Clothes, toothbrush... booze?"

"Got the booze," Gavin nodded. "What's left of it." He raised the remaining two bottles sheepishly.

"Fuck it," Geoff sighed, "Give one here. It's still legal limit," he defended, when Gavin raised his eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, but you got precious cargo!"

"I do?"

"Yeah! Me, you dope!" Gavin cried.

Geoff burst out into laughter. "For a second I thought you were serious. Alright, come on, I don't want to hang around here any more if I just have to listen to you."

"You are five flavours of vinegar, Geoffrey," Gavin told him, as he got in the passenger seat.

"Sure," Geoff nodded. "Whatever that means."

He started the car, and it took all of two minutes for Gavin to start wriggling in his seat. Immediately, Geoff knew what he was going to say. A moment later, he was proven right, as much as he wished he wasn’t.

"Geoff," Gavin began. "I'm bored. And I need to piss."

"Plenty of spare bottles."

That shut Gavin up for a few moments while he stared at him, trying to determine whether he was serious or not. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that at this point, Geoff wouldn't give two shits whether he peed in a bottle or not, so he sunk back into his seat and sulked.

Then, barely a minute later...

"Are we there yet?"

Geoff nearly bashed his head against the wheel. "I don't get paid enough for this shit," he muttered.

Gavin piped up helpfully, "You don't get paid at all."

 

\----

"Look at that," Gavin said admiringly, "What a smooth drive!"

"No thanks to you," Geoff said.

"Not a car in sight," Gavin continued, ignoring him completely. "Bloody hell, I mean, I'd prefer a parade to a ghost town, but it's kinda cool, when you think about it. Even the radio's gone gammy. I thought it was weird before, but the static-y nothingness is boring."

"I'm liking it. Less distractions, and less idiot drivers for me to run us into."

"You're not that bad a driver, Geoff."

Geoff side eyed him. "I wasn't talking about accidentally."

"Oh," Gavin said, oblivious. He proceeded to glue his face to the window, smushing his features together as he peered out. "Must be somethin' going on, there's literally not a single soul in sight."

Geoff glanced at him pressing his face against the glass and slyly hit the window down button. He earned a squawk and a hasty retreat for his efforts.

"Geoff," Gavin complained, rubbing his face. "You nearly peeled my cheeks off."

"I'm fine with that," Geoff shrugged. 

Gavin just harrumphed and looked out the window. He was about to start complaining again when he realised they were slowing down. "Wos goin' on?" he asked, perking up as they slowed to a crawl. "This isn't our street."

"Look at that," Geoff said. Something in his tone rung odd, or maybe it was how he said it, but it caught Gavin’s attention long enough for him to glance at him, then follow his gaze up the road.

"I can't even see what-"

As they approached, it became obvious what was wrong.

Two cars, empty and abandoned, lay in the middle of the street. Shattered glass from the windshield littered the ground around them, thousands of shards glinting sunlight at them as they crept slowly closer.

The closest car was upside down, the metal frame twisted so badly it seemed impossible, a mirage or an ocular illusion. It was bent inwards, and the top was pressing down so far that it was covering what would have been the steering wheel.

The hood was crushed in, evidently where the brunt of the impact had been - it was practically non existent. Through the door that was hanging open, Geoff could see a seat belt swinging gently in the breeze, and past that he could see into the _wall_ of torn metal that had once been the areas where the pedals were.

A hunk of unidentifiable metal speared through the middle of the broken windscreen and into the passenger seat.

The whole thing was blackened with a fire that had long gone out.

The second car wasn’t much better. All wheels were on the ground, but the left side of the car was smashed in, and they had to drive further down the road to examine it. The left car doors all appeared to be gone at first glance, but the closer they looked, the more it became evident that they’d been crushed so badly in that they were nothing more than another piece of unidentifiable metal.

Glass littered the seats inside, and blood trails continued from both car doors and abruptly stopped in the middle of the street.

The sound of the seatbelt clinking into the metal frame was the only noise in the otherwise silent street.

And still, still, still. Not a soul in sight.

"Musta been taken to the hospital already," Gavin said, as their car crept slowly past, not brave enough to stop when something felt so definitely wrong. Under Gavin’s hushed comments were the sounds of glass shards crunching and popping loudly under their tyres. 

"But where the fuck is everyone?" Geoff turned to meet Gavin’s eyes when the younger man looked to him. "Think about it - car crashes attract people like flies to rotten meat."

Gavin gagged. "Jesus, Geoff - can you not be so bloody gross?"

The normalcy of that seemed to dispel some of the disturbing and somewhat frightening atmosphere, the uncertainty and unawareness that had lingered around them lifting enough to let them breathe.

They passed the car wreck and sped back up again, but Gavin twisted in his seat, watching it disappear out of view as they got closer to home. "You reckon we shoulda stopped and seen if anyone needed help?" he asked, and Geoff knew he was only brave enough to say that because it was no longer in sight.

"Did you see anyone there?" Geoff asked.

"Well no, but-"

Geoff hummed, just as he knew Gavin thought he would. "Maybe when we get home, pack all our shit in, and get settled, we can head back and take a closer look."

"Yeah, alright.” Gavin didn’t look like he felt any better, but he was appeased for the time being.

A minute later, they pulled into their driveway, dragging their duffel bags out of the trunk and dumping them unceremoniously on the ground. The _slam_ of the trunk when Gavin shut it seemed to echo for miles, and the moment the engine cut off they were hit once more with the realisation of just how _quiet_ everything was.

Geoff shook his head. "Not to be a cliche son of a bitch, but that stupid saying fits way too well right now for my comfort."

"It's quiet, too quiet?" Gavin parroted.

Geoff nodded. "Have you seen a single fucking person this whole time?"

Standing in the middle of the driveway, clutching hold of his duffel bag and feeling like an idiot, Gavin shook his head. “Like I said, maybe something’s going on-”

_Crack!_

In tandem, Geoff and Gavin snapped their heads around, both flinching automatically away from the loud noise that tore through the silence. It came from some streets over, close enough for it to be obvious what it was.

"Was that-" Gavin started.

"That's not good," Geoff said. "Come on."

He started at a run towards the sound of the gunshot, off their driveway and down the street.

"What?" Gavin yelped, but he followed him. " _Towards_ the gunfire? Are you serious, Geoffrey?"

Geoff wasn't listening.

That noise - that goddamn haunting _noise_ \- the familiarity of it something that still woke him up on long nights at home, when it took him minutes to convince himself it was a dream, that he wasn't out there anymore.

That he was home, safe, and he wouldn’t wake up to a gun pressed to his head and all his team mates dead.

The gunshot was all it took to throw him back there, but the feeling of his feet pounding on the cement beneath him and the sound of Gavin calling after him tried to ground him in reality, and he ended up torn between the two, lost in his memories as he chased after a noise that was so undeniably real.

_\-- and it wasn't something either of them mentioned, and it wasn't anything more than platonic comfort, but on nights that were particularly bad - when he’d lose himself for hours in nightmares Gavin couldn’t wake him up from, when he’d wake up with his own screams being ripped from his throat - on those nights, he'd fall asleep again only with Gavin in his bed, his back pressed to Geoff's side, warmth emanating from him and slow breathing helping ground them both --_

" _Geoff_ ," Gavin called again, and he was snapped temporarily back into reality. He felt like a rubber band, or like a speeding car, from zero to a hundred in an instant.

They were at the end of the street that the sound had originated from, and it was empty as all the others they'd passed through, completely devoid of the regular signs of human life.

Except for what they'd heard.

That thought played on his mind as he looked around but found nothing, so on instinct, he continued forward, eyes and ears straining for anything, _anyone_ , because his heart was beating hard in his chest and he felt sick in his stomach.

God, did he want to dispel the paranoia that had been slowly draping itself over him ever since he realised that everything was too damn _quiet._

They got to the middle of the street before Gavin's hand on his arm finally forced Geoff to stop.

Geoff looked at the hand gripping his forearm, then slowly up at Gavin’s face.

"Probably wasn't even a gunshot, Geoffrey," Gavin was saying. "Probably just fireworks."

It was a lie and both of them knew it. They knew what fireworks sounded like, and up close, it was distinctive from a gunshot. But Gavin looked unnerved, even _scared_ , and Geoff knew part of it was because of Geoff himself, even if Gavin didn't want to say it.

Slowly, eyes still locked on Gavin’s, he nodded, and blew out a deep breath.

"Right," he said, and shook his head as Gavin hesitantly retracted his arm. "I just..."

"It's all good," Gavin said. "But I'd feel better if we were back at home. Not, y'know, on an empty street where it sounds like somethin' just got shot. The police will come, and-" He cut off and cocked his head, listening.

The sound of a distant rumbling made them share a glance, confused, but as they listened it quickly became louder, and soon it was definable as the sound of an engine.

Tension seemed to fall from the air as they exchanged dumbfounded looks, smiles of sheer relief tugging at their lips as they soaked in the sound of human life.

"Bleedin' Christ," Gavin chuckled. "I thought I was going nutters."

"You're always fucking nutters," Geoff told him, but the pressing weight of worry on his chest had loosened. He shook his head and laughed, a full, deep laugh of relief and the reassurance of _it’s okay._

As if to further comfort them, the car turned onto the end of the street.

“Jeez,” Gavin commented, a half laugh bubbling from him. “They bloody shredded tyres with that skid.”

He was right. The car - no, it looked like a jeep, from what Geoff could tell as he squinted at it - had come around the corner at speeds that Geoff was pretty sure were illegal.

It was coming fast. The smile dropped from his face, and he realised he no longer needed to squint to see the car.

On instinct, he grabbed Gavin's arm and backed up a step.

"Geoff?”

Before he could even get his name out, the door to the house opposite burst open and a large bearded man flew down the steps, heading straight at them at a run. Neither of them had any time to react before he had a hand on each of their arms

_what the fuck is happening?_

and they were being pulled back the way the man had come, towards the house.

" _Run!_ "

The man's roar echoed through the street as Geoff yelled and yanked his arm away, instinctively elbowing the man in the temple. He'd aimed for the neck, but Gavin had pulled away at the same moment and knocked the man off centre.

The bearded man stumbled back, glasses askew. "Get inside!" he yelled again, and half turned, clearly torn between convincing them to run and moving to safety. “Quickly!”

When neither of them moved, he turned and fled.

Almost too late, Geoff remembered the jeep. As if in slow motion, he turned back to the street and the car racing down it, and he saw what he hadn’t seen before.

The car approaching them wasn't a regular car. It was a military vehicle, tinted windows and bullet-proof tyres, and mounted on top was a _very big gun._

Geoff had lived through a lot of shit, but that didn't mean the world didn't freeze for a moment when he realised that it was aimed right at them.

Without a second of hesitation, he grabbed Gavin by the arm and yanked him towards the house. The door was still wide open, and the bearded man was already through the doorway. Their eyes met when he turned to glance back over his shoulder.

He stopped when he realised they were following him, nearly tripping over himself in his sudden change of direction, but he recovered quickly and got one step outside before he froze, eyes snapping to the jeep that was bearing down on them.

His mouth formed an 'o' which lasted for a second, and then he was yelling, screaming at them to move, and Geoff obeyed but Gavin didn't hear it because the loudest noise he'd ever heard had started up behind them.

He froze on instinct, legs locking up just as they reached the steps, as he realised that they were being shot at.  

Gunfire tore up the tarmac behind them, then the front of the path as they reached the steps, and the bearded man was extending an arm and yelling something nobody could hear over the deafening chaos.

It felt like the world was falling down around them.

In the moment it took to reach the doorway, to close the distance between his hand and the man in front, Geoff was sure it was too late. That he'd be knocked to the floor as bullets tore through him, that he'd be left twitching and dying in a pool of his own hot blood-

\- he knew it wouldn't do any good, but he was reaching, reaching, and time felt like it slowed down even though he could hear shrapnel from the bullets flying around them, straining himself as he continued to pull Gavin and _why wasn't he moving, damn it-_

\- and then their hands met and they were hauled inside as the walls of the house seemed to explode around them.

Geoff managed to keep his footing, but Gavin hit the floor with a thud. In a desperate move, Geoff slammed the door shut behind him, but he didn't stop there, grabbing Gavin by the arm and dragging him further away from the door.

He was chanting Gavin's name as the smaller man's feet scrabbled for purchase on instinct, and he scrambled forward on his hands and knees, oblivious to the angry red marks he left on his palms.

After what felt like an eternity but was only the space of a few seconds, Gavin was hauled upright and they were moving, trying to run down the hallway, but they were all too stunned and too scared to stand upright and make bigger targets of themselves.

They were inside, but far from safe.

The loud screech of brakes told them that the car was nearly in front of the house. Then gunfire didn't stop, just kept coming, bullet after bullet slamming into the house, the windows, the walls.

Gavin tried to run but he couldn't, his legs failing beneath him, pure shock and fear overwhelming him to the point where he couldn't focus enough to make them work. He would have collapsed, but it was Geoff's grip around his arm - so tight that he was sure his bones would break - that kept him moving. Over the deafening gunfire he heard himself screaming, Geoff's name being ripped from his throat. He could see Geoff yelling something back at him over his shoulder, his eyes impossibly wide with fear.

Behind them, the door seemed to explode inwards, in a spray of gunfire aimed directly down the hall.

They reached the end of the hallway and took a hard left, and Gavin was sent face first into the wall at the end of the hallway so hard he bit his tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

He stumbled, dazed, but Geoff was there, dragging him to the side. He was barely safe before bullets slammed into the wall where his face had been.

Shards of plaster and wood were sent hurtling in every direction as gunfire continued to pepper the end of the hallway. Something flew off into Gavin's face and there was a sudden stinging, a burning hot sensation above his eye that he didn't even register. There was no time to think, not even any time to drag in the air his lungs were desperately demanding _when did he start gasping for air why was it so hard to breathe_ but somehow he managed, dragging in choking coughs that were almost sobs as Geoff relentlessly pulled him out past a patio door made out of glass.

A different type of gunfire started up, but Gavin didn't notice the difference, ears still ringing and his harsh panting so loud he couldn't hear anything over it. He couldn't think, too terrified and too overwhelmed to care about anything besides the fact that they were getting _shot_ at, they were going to _die,_ they'd never make it never make it _never make it-_

Screaming started up in the house, a high pitched noise of terror and fear that just as abruptly stopped, not at all once, but with a drawn out choking noise Gavin was sure he'd never forget.

The bearded man cursed, full of pain and anger, but there was no time to say anything before they were jumping the fence.

They landed, and all of a sudden the sight in Gavin's left eye was gone, and for a long moment he was terrified he was shot. He reached up and felt around blindly, and his hands came away red. It took him a moment to realise he was bleeding, blood running down into his eye and obscuring his vision, but he couldn't figure out why.

Then they were running, running, past the side of the house and out onto the street. The man who'd saved them suddenly veered right and they kept along the sidewalk, pulse racing in their ears, the sound of their feet thumping heavily on the sidewalk not enough to drown out the sound of gunshots shattering the glass patio door from the house they'd just escaped from.

"Fuck," Geoff panted. His eyes were wild, and when he turned to face Gavin he stumbled, nearly fell, but caught himself. "You-"

He didn't finish his sentence, and Gavin wanted to ask him _why_ , wanted to ask _what was going on,_ _why was he bleeding, Geoff?_ but his lungs were on fire and he felt sick to his stomach and he was too scared to do anything other than _run._

Everything felt so heavy, the universe crashing down around him, and he was moving through a world that suddenly felt like water.

As they ran, all Gavin could think was that horror movies weren't meant to happen in broad daylight.


	5. long story short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at ragamuffiin on tumblr i guess <3

 

At some point, he'd stumbled, and for a long moment in the middle of the street, Gavin wasn't sure he'd get back up again. Then Geoff had skidded to a stop and turned around, pulling him back to his feet and tugging off of the tarmac.

"Gavin," he'd managed, the only thing that could make it through his closed up throat, but that had been enough.

Mechanically, Gavin had started running again, although he wasn't sure why.

Geoff was leading. The bearded man had dropped behind, his breath the loudest thing Gavin could hear. His hearing hadreturned, but he wasn't sure he wanted it to, fearful that the last thing he'd hear before he died was a gunshot piercing the air and his own screams choked by the blood gurgling in his windpipe-

His mind wasn't working right, because he couldn't seem to think, nothing but pointed shards and sharp edges of a broken mosaic of fear and panic. It felt like he was drowning, breathing in air that was too thick to properly breathe, and despite the blood he could feel trickling down his face his head didn't hurt at all.

Maybe he'd been shot, and he was dead. Maybe this was all a dream, and he was in a coma, or he was unconscious and wasting away the last few precious seconds of life in a haze of downright terror.

He was cold, and he was scared, and the world flew by beneath his feet and he didn't even realise. Every second that passed he felt further disconnected from reality. Even the adrenaline that had flooded through him at first was overwhelmed, replaced by the numbness, the slow feeling of apathy and unawareness that had been creeping up on him.

Gavin didn't realise that, either. All he did was run, mind dull, slowly losing awareness of his surroundings.

_"This way,_ " Geoff puffed out, and without a word Gavin and the bearded man followed him.

Geoff had no idea where he was going, except that in front of him was his home, safe and warm, and if he could get in there and into bed he was sure he'd wake up, a scream caught in his throat, an apology on his lips, and Gavin would come in and tell him "It's all right, Geoffers, you dope."

But when he turned to face Gavin, and saw the blood running down his face from the cut in his forehead - _how did he get that?_ \- he was jerked back into the realisation that he might not be able to wake up from this.

He skidded to a halt in front of their house, and the bearded man turned to face him, clearly surprised. "What-" he managed, but he was breathing so hard it was impossible to get anything else out, and the hand tightly clutching his chest made Geoff worry if he had any heart problems.

Then he laughed, almost hysterically, because heart problems were the least of their worries.

Gavin, surprisingly, joined in, hysterical giggles escaping him in hiccups that Geoff knew would soon turn into sobs. 

The bearded man was staring at them as if they were insane. After a second of his horrified gaze resting heavily on them, Geoff snapped out of it. He pointed to their car, and without explanation, moved towards it.

By some unknown thought process, he bent to snatch up the duffel bags they'd abandoned in the driveway. The first few times he'd grabbed for the door handle he missed, his sweaty hands not cooperating. For a second the wild thought of _smash the window_ ran through his mind, and he'd balled his hand up to try and punch through it when the bearded man shoved past him and yanked open the door.

Geoff watched dumbly as Gavin was manhandled inside - he'd stopped laughing, stopped giggling, just _stopped_ \- and that frightened Geoff enough to spur him into action.

Without thinking, he jumped in the drivers seat. He looked back as the bearded man fell in behind Gavin, slamming the door so loud it echoed, and Geoff realised he was waiting for him to drive.

"I don't know _where_ -" he choked out, but then he realised he did.

Another sudden burst of adrenaline hit him, flooding through his veins, and he jammed on the accelerator and reversed out of the driveway, tyres squealing. The man - Geoff didn't know his goddamn name, didn't even _think_ about asking it - cursed at him, cursed at the world, and Geoff realised they'd both been too loud for moving this slow.

They needed to be out of here. God, they needed to be out of here, away from whatever was going on, away from military jeeps with gun turrets, away from streets littered with shattered glass and blood trails that trailed off into _nothing-_

_What had happened to everyone, where were the people, what was going **on** -_

All things considered, he wasn't surprised when he found himself pressing down the accelerator. His eyes flicked frantically around, at the rear view mirror, out the window, searching for any sign of the jeep from before, but found none.

He didn't know how long it took.

It seemed like before he knew it, they were out of the residential areas, through the small section of highway, and onto the track into the forest.

He drove for a long fourty minutes in silence, unsure whether he had the strength to lift his foot from the accelerator or unclench his hands from the wheel. It felt like he was locked there, his stiff joints melded into the same position for eternity, because now he'd stopped moving he wasn't sure if he could ever start again.

Then, all of a sudden, he threw on the brakes. The car jerked to a stop in the middle of the weedy, overgrown path.

He turned to the bearded man, who turned to face him, with gaunt eyes and a heavier face. It was the first time Geoff registered that he was holding a gun, a handgun, steel and silver and cold.

He swapped his gaze to Gavin, who wasn't looking at him, but Geoff could see him shaking.

"What..." he started, and could say no more.

On some unknown level, different from the survival instinct that had kicked in before, when he'd dragged Gavin off the street as the jeep came squealing towards them, when all the levels in his brain that had clicked to tell him _something's wrong this is wrong_ and forced him into action before he'd even registered it - on some level, a tiny part of his brain suggested _start small._

He needed to begin to comprehend this, or he was going to go insane. The thought made him glance at Gavin.

He looked like he was in shock.

In fact, looking at him, with drying blood gluing his hair to his forehead, face paler than he'd ever seen, clenched fists shaking, Geoff knew he was.

He'd seen it before in the army, but it was different seeing it on the people you knew.

"My name is Jack," the bearded man offered hoarsely, breaking the quiet. Geoff blinked slowly at him. "That was my house."

Geoff was suddenly stumped, everything he'd planned to say flying from his mind and leaving him with his mouth hanging. Eventually, "Was that your family?"

Jack didn't ask. He knew he meant the screams that had come to a wrenching stop.

It took a moment, but eventually, he shook his head. "My family got out. They were other escapees," he said, and Geoff had no idea what that meant. "My family... they were visiting relatives for New Years Eve... I was left behind looking after the dog." He shook his head. "I hope they didn't shoot her."

Dumbly, Geoff nodded. None of the information was sinking in, he couldn't _function,_ yet-

"I didn't see any dog," he offered, even though this wasn't helping him understand anything in the slightest.

Jack nodded. "She was probably in the kennel. She was never one for barking, and she was never brave, so maybe they didn't see her."

They were quiet again, and after reaching back to squeeze Gavin's hand, as normally as if he was hung over and throwing up and Geoff was just offering some comfort, Geoff turned back and started the car again. They drove in silence.

Shock does strange things to people.

\----

 

Geoff felt tired. More than tired. For the first time in his life, getting out of the car in front of his cabin didn't inspire him with a sense of adventure and anticipation.

The final burst of adrenaline that had given him the strength to drive them out of there had left nothing but exhaustion in its wake. But at the very least, the undercurrent of sheer terror that had been worming away at him had faded into the background.

He stumbled towards the back door of the car, and between himself and Jack, Gavin was brought into the cabin and laid out on the couch, unwilling and unable to take his own weight.

Geoff thought he understood. He'd had the same sudden, strange deadweight exhaustion when he'd been driving. But in order to drive, he’d pushed everything from his mind almost completely, focusing only on what he was doing this very second, and he was sure it was the only reason he was standing now.

The moments that they stood there dragged into a minute, then two, and Geoff didn't even really acknowledge it until Jack sunk down onto his knees beside Gavin and lifted a shaking hand to examine his forehead.

"Do you have any medical kits?" Jack asked him, his voice breaking the heavy silence that had long descended over them.

Turning to answer, Geoff realised it was the first time he was able to get a good look at the man who'd pulled them from the street. Jack had deep, dark circles under his eyes, and a drawn, ragged look that implied things about time Geoff didn't want to think about just yet.

How long would it take for circles to get that painfully deep set look? How exhausted could one man look? Jack seemed as if he hadn't slept in a year.

Then a hand was waved in front of his face, and Jack was peering at him in concern, worried eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

The rims were bent. Geoff remembered doing that. He'd elbowed him in the face when Jack had tried to save them from the car-

"Any first aid kits?" Jack asked again.

After a moment, his words finally sunk in. Mechanically, Geoff got up and walked towards the cupboards, opening one and feeling around in it for a few moments before withdrawing a red metal box.

He brought it back and handed it to Jack in silence, not even thinking about what he was doing, focusing on trying to stay calm, to push back the questions he desperately needed answered, and take care of Gavin first things first.

When he began to focus, to allow more thoughts into his mind and past the wall he'd subconsciously constructed, he nearly doubled over. His first instinct was to push them away, unwilling to comprehend them all just yet.

But a small part of him insisted. It drew his eyes towards Gavin, still lying straight and staring, at the ceiling, and it reminded him that he was needed. Gavin needed him, or maybe Geoff needed Gavin to need him.

It didn’t matter. Either way, he straightened his back, unclenched his teeth, and turned to Jack.

"Are you a doctor?" Geoff heard himself ask, voice raspy. It hurt to get the words out of his throat.

Jack looked at him for a moment. "No. I was a vet."

"Okay." Then, "You were."

Jack nodded.

Geoff let them lapse into silence as Jack set to work, getting a spare cloth and wiping the dried blood from Gavin's face.

Gavin flinched but otherwise didn't react as Jack began poking at the wound. It was a small cut, about an inch long, but it had tiny holes around it where he'd been peppered with shrapnel. As Geoff watched, Jack used a pair of tweezers to remove tiny bits of plaster and other unidentifiable, blood coated pieces from the wound.

He shuddered at the sight, but Gavin was worryingly still.

When Jack had finished, and wiped at the blood now seeping from the reopened wound, he tore off a small strip of cloth and pressed it against Gavin's head. He instructed Geoff to hold it there while he wrapped a length of bandage around Gavin's head.

"Hopefully this won't stain," he said, sounding like he was talking to himself. "Need to preserve these kind of things."

Geoff nodded mutely.

Jack took one look at him and started feeling around in his pockets.

"What are you looking for?" Geoff asked, and Jack seemed surprised he'd spoken again at all.

"A little flashlight I had on me," he answered truthfully.

"I have my phone. It has a flashlight."

Jack gaped. "It's not out of battery?"

Geoff shook his head. "I've only checked it twice a day while we were up here. It's got about twenty percent left."

"Wh..." he looked stunned. "Where?"

Jack watched him as he fished it out of his pocket, turning it on and entering the passcode before handing it over.

"No signal," Jack whispered, staring down at it.

"Never was any up here." Geoff cleared his throat, ran his hands through his hair. He pressed the palms of his hands so tightly into his eyes he saw stars, and it was only when he pulled them away that he felt like he could begin any semblance of coping.

"But somewhere else..." Jack looked contemplative, then he darted a look at Geoff as if he only just remembered he was there. He turned it off immediately and put it in his pocket.

Geoff let him, his phone the least of his worries. He watched silently as Jack patted down his other pockets and, with a small noise of triumph, withdrew a small key ring flashlight. He immediately turned and shone it into one of Gavin's eyes, then the other.

"He's in shock," he said, as if it wasn't obvious. "But it's not fatal, and it's not because his wound was bad. He'll... be okay. What's his name?"

"Gavin. I'm Geoff."

Jack nodded and shoved one of the dirty throw pillows from the floor underneath Gavin's feat, and lay the rug overtop of him. Gavin's shivering didn't subside, but he licked his lips, giving the first real sign of life since his small bout of hysterical laughter.

After a moment of eyeing him carefully, Jack wheeled on Geoff and lifted the flashlight, but Geoff moved away.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly. "I've been shot at before."

Which was true. But he'd never experienced it somewhere familiar, with someone he cared about in equal danger, or while he was completely unaware of what was going _on_ -

"Maybe you should check yourself," he suggested wryly, and he saw Jack turn to him in surprise. "You don't look so good either."

While Jack tried to come up with a response to that, Geoff found his gaze drawn to Gavin once more. He was still pale, still shaky. Geoff wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if Gavin was looking more aware of the world around him. He realised he wasn't seeing things when slowly, Gavin started pulling himself upright.

He was still off, just like everything was, just like everything had been since they'd made their way back into the district from the mountains and in towards civilisation.

"You don't know the half," Jack muttered, quiet and bitter. He slumped into a chair.

Geoff turned to face him. "What?" he demanded. Finally, he gathered his strength, and jabbed a finger towards the way they'd come. Gavin, who was between them, flinched away. "Well why don't you fucking _tell me_?"

"You haven't asked! I didn't want to make it- _anything_ any worse!"

"Any worse?" Geoff repeated coldly, suddenly filled with more emotions that he could name. "Any worse? We got _shot at!_ "

"At least you didn't _get shot_!" Jack was on his feet now, but he didn't need to. For some reason, Geoff quieted, seeming to shrink as he lowered his arms and his gaze trailed off.

"But someone did," he said, and Jack realised why he'd suddenly quietened. The memory of the screams that had come from inside the house danced in front of his eyes, and he flicked his eyes up to Jack, asking for answers, for an explanation, but Jack shook his head. He had no idea where to start.

So he sat back in the chair again, although it was more like he collapsed into it, and like a torrent the words came pouring from his lips. "It's a war," he found himself saying, "An invasion. And everyone who hasn't been taken prisoner are getting shot like cattle."

It was silent.

Geoff was staring at him, looking like he was waiting for a punch line that Jack only wished he would give. All the colour that had returned to Gavin's face was gone.

Then, dauntingly, came the sound of a helicopter flying overhead.

Jack watched Geoff's eyes dart back and forth across the ceiling, peering up to the roof as if he could see the helicopter through it. Jack didn't want to think about that, so he turned to Gavin, but Gavin was just staring at him, lips moving soundlessly, and it took Jack a moment to realise that he was mouthing the last words Jack had said.

Moments passed. The tattooed man was still craning his neck in the direction he thought the helicopter disappeared to. He didn’t look like he was listening, not that Jack had anything more to say, but he looked like he wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.

Gavin started slowly pulling himself into an upright position.

Jack didn’t even realise it, but he was wringing his hands together worriedly, and somehow Geoff knew what he was thinking, that he was worrying, worrying that the helicopter would be able to see _them_. And the defences in Geoff's brain started falling, memories seeping in, and he shifted through them, from the moment something had clicked that everything seemed wrong, past the car crash, to the first gunshot, then to Jack, the jeep, running, running, driving like he'd never driven before, Jack's dog, Gavin in shock, Gavin's blood on his car, on his lounge-

To before that. To the ride up originally, and the helicopters that had been swarming around like flies.

Though long gone, he swore he could still hear the helicopter blades chopping through the air.

Slowly, he turned to Jack. "When did you say this started?"

"New Years Eve," Jack replied immediately.

"New Years..." he turned to Gavin, but got no response. "New Years Eve. The helicopters."

"The gammy radio," Gavin whispered. Then his hands hit the sofa so hard it sounded like it hurt, and Jack and Geoff spun to face him. "The jets!" He was wide eyed, stunned with the weight of the realisation that hit him like a freight train.

"What fucking jets?" Geoff demanded. Jack stared at Gavin.

Gavin blinked, then again, and he looked up at Geoff with wide eyes. “The night planes,” he managed. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he continued, “The ones that went overhead without any lights!"

“What?” Geoff was standing in front of him, looking like he wanted to grab him, but was holding back.

"When I was getting firewood - I completely forgot about it, and didn't think nothing of it at the time. I thought they woulda just been for a show - it was New Years _Eve_ ," he stressed, as if he was defending himself.

"I guess that’s why they chose that night." Jack looked haunted. "With all the celebrations, all the noise, it was the perfect cover."

It made a lot of sense to Geoff, and he didn't like it one bit.

An eerie silence descended over them.

"The jets were the first to hit," Jack began quietly, moments later, unable to bear the quiet. “In waves, lot after lot - they circled around for what felt like forever. It seemed like they’d never end." He put his head in his hands. “Most of them came from Los Santos, the International Airport there... and the _soldiers_ \- pouring out onto the streets - at first the gunshots sounded like any other fireworks, but then they didn’t stop, and people started screaming."

His voice was hollow, echoing his horror, and he didn’t look at either of them. “I was out near the Maze Bank Arena, in La Puerta, in the streets. At first, I didn’t know what was happening, but then - I don’t know, the whole atmosphere started changing, and people started shouting. I was sober, I started looking for my friends, but I lost them in the crowd, and when I got to high ground to look for them, I- it - _everyone,_ being herded into the arena.”

“Jesus.”

“There was this goddamn _wall_ of people, of foreign soldiers, and anybody who didn’t run, didn’t move in the direction they wanted… and all of a sudden there were guns going off and dead people everywhere and I don’t _know,_ I ran. I ran all the way home, and I’ve been hiding ever since.”

“What about the people you were hiding with?” Geoff asked, his tongue feeling like it weighed a million tonnes. “When…”

“People I found when I was looking for survivors,” Jack said, dully. “There’s still a lot of uncaptured people, but that’s changing fast. They’re going building to building, searching every house, every floor. I live far out, in Murrieta Heights, -”

“Two streets from us,” Geoff said. "We ran from our house to yours."

Jack didn't look like he heard him. “So we were safe for a while, or at least we thought we were.” He gave a wry laugh and shook his head. “I’m starting to get the idea we’re not safe anywhere anymore.”


	6. muffled words don't reach my ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at ragamuffiin on tumblr i guess

Gavin slept for a long time. He slept, and slept, and woke up at an odd time but refused to go back to sleep again.

He barely ate, and Geoff had to revert to coaxing him gently, talking to him as if he was a child.

Jack hovered, silent and uncomfortable, the first night in the new shelter proving difficult for him. Geoff had to offer him food, and he didn’t know whether Jack hadn’t asked because of some ingrained sense of politeness, or because he didn't want to overstep his boundaries.

It turned out to be the second one, and that became clear after Jack proceeded to devour every can of food he was given.

If only Gavin had held the same enthusiasm. His silence was almost painful, the way he'd reverted into himself sending Geoff into a whirlwind of worry, afraid that whatever Gavin was thinking couldn't and wouldn’t bode well.

It made him feel helpless, because he couldn’t directly _help_ him, couldn’t sort out all the things plaguing him and get him back on his feet. But he did what he could, and practically babied him, hovering near him anxiously and trying to offer him whatever support he could. He tried to act strong, as if he was unshaken by the day's events, but sometimes he’d drift off mid sentence, the day’s events playing through his mind, and when he’d shake himself back into reality Gavin would be watching him knowingly.

Any other time, Geoff would have found it hilarious, but now, it was just more weight to add to the metaphorical hammer hanging above his head.

Given enough time, it would fall.

At least that's how he felt. But he was moving, functioning, and so was Jack, and it seemed like that was something he should be grateful for.

Hours passed, and they made it through the night, with not much sleep between them.

It was early, maybe six, when they gave up on that idea at all. Geoff heard Jack walk outside, the screen door shutting behind him with a clang. It was several hours before he came back, and almost immediately he left again.

What he was doing, Geoff didn't know - he was too busy waiting for Gavin to wake up. The morning he'd jumped on him and yelled obscenities felt like it was a million years ago. The concept was foreign; any loud noises, and it felt like they would break.

“How did you find this?”

It was the first thing Jack asked when he climbed back up the steps and pushed open the screen door. Geoff looked up, apparently alerted by something in his tone, because he slowly got to his feet.

“Why? What is it?”

Jack gestured around them in disbelief. “This place! It’s -”

“Pretty incredible, huh,” Geoff said, offering a half smile.

“No! Well _yes,_ but look at it from a survival standpoint.” That got Geoff’s attention again, because he followed Jack as he started exploring the small cabin, eyeing the rooms and analysing them quietly under his breath.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he said warily, when Jack eventually circled back into the middle room and stopped.

“This cabin,” he started, trying to think it all through in his head, “does anyone know it exists?”

Geoff shook his head.

“Anybody at all?” Jack pressed.

“No, dude-” Geoff rubbed his forehead. “Not even the fucking government. My dad’s dad’s dad or some shit built it, back when permits like, weren’t even a thing.”

The look on Jack’s face could only be described as hopeful. “And there’s no electricity, right, or plumbing? So there’s no real record of it anywhere on any grids.”

Geoff could see where he was going, and the implications made him feel dizzy. His head spun sickeningly for all of three seconds before he shook it, _hard,_ and everything rearranged itself. He realised his hands were balled tightly, his fingernails digging crescent moons into his palms.

Jack was still looking at the screen door, past it, to the world outside. “This is incredible,” he said, talking to himself. “This is beyond... and the trees above it, they cover the house from any angle except directly above, and from there it’d be barely noticeable-”

“Which means any helicopters looking for us - or anybody,” Geoff said, slowly, “will probably pass right over us. We’re smack in the middle of the mountains.”

Gavin peered around the doorway, hair messy and eyes wide, but he went unnoticed as the two men slowly began to get a grasp on things - Jack, on the potential this place offered, and Geoff, for _everything_.

"So we're safe here for now," Geoff finished quietly, his voice rasping. "From the... whatever is going on."

“The invasion."

“Right,” Geoff said, almost emptily. “The invasion.”

Jack nodded.

Gavin stared between them both in muted shock. They couldn’t honestly be _discussing this_ , talking about it like-- as if it was actually _happening_ , because-- it was so ridiculous, honestly, so far-fetched that it wasn’t worth considering--

and maybe deep down he was afraid that speaking the words would make it real.

He hadn’t survived this past week in sheer terror, hadn’t been there since it started, hadn’t witnessed the massacre that had started on New Year’s Eve and never stopped.

Nor had he lived in the army for a large portion of his life. He’d never fired a gun, barely even held one, and he’d never seen anybody die in front of him or been in any extremely stressful situations.

He had no survival mode to revert to.

Geoff did, and Jack had been forced to create one in order to survive. So Gavin was left floundering, still half a day in the past, still being shot at, still thinking he was dead, still not believing that around them there was a war being waged while Jack and Geoff were standing in front of him discussing-

“-water source,” Geoff confirmed, as Gavin zoned back in, blinking at them, “We set up a filter, but it’s all generally clean anyway, unless there’s a flood or something, which has never happened. But sometimes the water comes through dirtier, and we wouldn’t drink it if it didn’t come through the tap clear.”

Jack nodded along. “If it’s coming from the little pool at the base of the waterfall, we can bathe in the stream, and prevent further contamination.”

“Right." Geoff nodded once, then again with more feeling, forcing himself to keep track with this even if he was more lost than he looked. He grasped for something to say, to prove he was functioning, because Jack was looking at him with an odd look of suspicion in his eye like he knew Geoff wasn't as stable as he seemed, and-

"But what about food? We practically decimated what we brought up here originally. Although there’s always fishing, we have fishing rods in the shed."

Jack nodded. “I suppose I could do that.” He looked ephemerally burdened with his guilt, clearly distracted, and Geoff remembered that he was a vet.

“I don’t know how to hunt, but I can shoot,” Geoff said. “And I did go to boy scouts once, I’m pretty sure they taught us some traps...” he thought for a moment before he gave up. “Fuck it, it was too long ago.”

When he stopped talking, it was quiet, and he was suddenly filled with an awkward discomfort for saying such things. Like he was falling for a joke, and planning ahead would make him the butt of it.

But when he pushed that thought aside, it was easier to think like this. Easier to cope, especially when he was pushing himself to avoid that look Jack had already given him. If he put everything else behind him and focused on the moment, and even the near future, he could comprehend and even _plan_ things that otherwise he would never had a hope of doing.

He felt a strange sensation, an itchy, uncomfortable feeling settling over him, and he realised Gavin had been listening to their conversation at the same moment the messy haired man stepped into their view.

“Gavin...” Geoff started, but Gavin spoke first.

“Wait," Gavin managed, his voice quiet, almost strangled, and they both tensed at the sound. “All this talk about... _hunting_ , and _setting traps--_ don’t you think it’s a bit unnecessary? We’re not _staying_ here, Geoff.”

Jack stared at him.

“Why’s that, Gavin?” Geoff asked quietly, words heavy and weighted by his unwillingness to do what he was realising he might have to.

“Because-- it’s just, there’s no need, I mean-”

“No need?” Jack repeated scathingly, but Geoff was quick to intervene.

“Shut up, Gavin,” Geoff said simply, and the smaller man looked at him in shock. He regretted the sharp words as soon as he said them, and something in him twisted with hurt at the look Gavin gave him, but it was too late to bite back the words that were already out in the open.

"How’s that cut on your forehead going?” he said finally, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over them, a blanket of heavy impatience and sharp avoidance.

Gavin hesitantly reached up to touch it, fingering the bandage absentmindedly. “It’s fine,” he said, unwillingly.

His unwillingness told Geoff a lot more about how he was dealing with it, confirming the tattooed man’s fears. Gavin was trying to find a way to ignore it - as he did with everything that proved to be too confronting for him.

Breaking up with girls, unpaid bills - all things he tried to ignore, pretend they didn’t exist. It never worked, and it was a poor coping mechanism, because bills didn’t disappear when you stopped thinking about them and neither did his old girlfriends, either.

And it sure as fuck wouldn’t work now.

So he didn’t think twice about his next words.

“Yeah. It could be a lot worse, you know.”

Gavin seemed to know where he was going, because he retreated back a step, through the safety of his doorframe and back into his room.

“You did almost get shot,” Geoff finished. “At least it’s not a bullet hole.”

It had the opposite effect than what he wanted, because Gavin shuddered, eyes squeezing shut at the memories that hit him. Before Geoff could apologise, Gavin took another step back and closed the door in his face.

“What the-” Jack started, staring at the closed door.

“Just let him be,” Geoff advised, putting his head into his hands. “He can’t push out the world forever.”

“Right,” Jack agreed hesitantly, sending a sidelong glance at the man next to him. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Maybe,” Geoff said, voice still muffled by his hands. A second later he raised his head and shook it, but it had no effect. The overwhelming reality was sinking in slowly, nauseatingly, and the added worry of Gavin withdrawing was more than he could almost handle.

His own words echoed around in his head as Jack walked away, exiting out the front door and disappearing yet again.

 _Well,_ he thought, _it could be a lot worse. After all, you did almost get shot._

As the screen door banged in its hinges, he gripped his forehead and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut hard enough that bursts of stars burned themselves into the back of his eyelids -- and for a split second, he could imagine he was back in the plunge pool, watching the fireworks explode above him with Gavin at his side.


	7. dying's not on the agenda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's reading this! i love you all! <3

Not even an hour later, when Gavin had settled back onto the couch at Geoff’s urging, and the tattooed man had settled in next to him, Jack ran back into the house shouting something with enough force to send the birds in the nearby trees scattering.

Geoff's hand subconsciously went for his belt would be, for where he used to carry his gun, and didn't notice when he grasped at empty air. Thinking fast, he was on his feet and halfway across the room in seconds, where he met Jack and forced him to a stop. He grabbed him by the shoulders without thinking, giving him a solid shake.

If he’d ended up with his nose bloodied, he wouldn’t have been surprised - he remembered his own initial reaction to Jack startling him, and it had involved a lot more violence than the reaction Jack gave him.

He was repeating whatever he’d shouted earlier, and Geoff was searching for any key words -- _soldiers, helicopters, run --_ but instead just heard one name.

"Emma,"Jack finally spat out, clear enough to be understood. Still looking stunned, he focused his gaze on Geoff. “We have to get Emma.”

“Who?" Geoff asked, somewhat dumbly.

"My dog!"

"Your dog... her name is Emma?"

“Yes! I stole some water to leave in her kennel - but it should be nearly out by now. She didn’t have any food, either, and that was since yesterday - oh, god, we have to go get her.”

“Wait, hold up,” Geoff said. He stepped in front of Jack to block his way when the larger man tried to turn away. “What? Are you saying go back there?" It was half an incredulous laugh that escaped him, not a voice crack that showed his fear at the thought.

“I don't- I can't leave her there. And for... for some reason, everywhere on the outskirts - Eastwood, even Vinewood, from what I could tell - there were barely any soldiers there. Apart from a few patrols... but it doesn't matter, everyone was too scared to go out, to do anything. There didn't seem like many people left, but it's hard to tell, everybody was hiding."

"You're not making any fucking sense," Geoff intervened, trying to keep his voice even and failing. “Go _back_ there?”

Jack's eyes met Geoff's and he looked desperate. "For whatever reason, there wasn't much action on the outskirts of the city just yet... apart from what we caused."

"You caused," Geoff corrected, but his mind was running over the information. "You were at the source of the first gunshot. But still-"

Jack looked pained. "It was a goddamn accident. Someone dropped their gun." Before Geoff could even begin to respond to that, he continued. "Chances are they’d assume we wouldn’t be dumb enough to go back.”

"We're not," Geoff said, but he sounded doubtful to his own ears, and that shocked him enough to make him think deeper into it, past the initial rejection.

On a colder, more clinical mindset, he'd automatically considered the bonuses to returning and weighed them against the risks.

Being able to take a look around - seeing, with his own eyes, in a mindset focused solely on gaining information and _understanding_ the situation. Getting answers to his questions. Soothing his doubts.

He side eyed Gavin, who'd disappeared back into the bedroom, and distantly wondered if maybe returning back there would knock the life back into him.

He felt a stab of guilt, but that was nothing compared to Jack. The bearded man was pressing his hands tightly to his eyes and looking like he was trying not to cry. “Emma,” he said. “I can’t believe I forgot her.”

Geoff swallowed down a wave of compassion that hit him right in the heart. “It’s alright,” he said, resting a hand on the slightly larger man’s shoulder. “We had bigger issues."

He barely even heard himself make the promise to Jack, mind too busy racing over ideas, possibilities, risks and horrors, but it registered distantly to his own ears.

"We’ll get her back."

\----

 

After his initial overwhelming guilt and worry for his dog, Jack had returned to care mode, albeit slightly distanced, still lost in the worry and apprehension of what lay ahead.

But he was insisting they eat, drink some water, try and rest if they could - anything to get their energy levels to as high as possible. So they gathered around the fireplace as it slowly got dark, digging into whatever they’d had left over from the original trip up.

They'd broken into some of the stockpile Geoff and Gavin had collected to store here last night,  especially Jack, but with a bit more time to process everything, Geoff found himself slipping into survival mode, automatically assessing what was best to eat first, and what they could keep for the long run.

That thought kept him in silence, and between he and Gavin, there was little conversation.

Gavin had offered little in regards to their decision to return, to Geoff's disappointment - but he hadn't actively refused, so there wasn't much Geoff could do. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, his desire to keep Gavin safe up here combating against his fear that he and Jack might not return, and Gavin would be up here.

Alone.

That idea haunted him, too.

“How long is the car ride?” Jack eventually asked, breaking the silence.

“Two hours, most.” Gavin answered before Geoff could, his voice slightly dull. The fact that he'd said anything came as a shock to all of them.

At first, Geoff thought Jack was scrambling to cover the sudden awkward silence that had returned with a force, but when he spoke, the desperation in his voice was clear. “Getting time to go then, don’t you think?”

“Right,” Geoff agreed hesitantly. He peeked out the windows. “Are you sure it’ll be dark enough?”

“If it’ll take us two hours, then yeah.”

Gavin stood, too, so Geoff had no choice, and they left the little cabin in silence.

Gavin caught himself looking back at it as they started the car, the noise of the engine seeming to echo for miles despite that he knew it would be swallowed by the dense trees. He didn’t wonder if they’d ever see it again, because that was more than he could comprehend right now.

Or so he thought. But he kept finding himself thinking more and more about it, and while his first instincts were to point blank _balk_ at everything, thoughts and ideas kept slipping in, squeezing past the defences he'd unintentionally created and planting themselves deep in his mind.

There was really a war out there. They all might die tonight.

When Geoff looked at him in concern, eyes flickering in the light of the small kerosene lamp they’d brought into the car with them, Gavin looked away. He knew what Geoff was thinking, knew how worried he was.

“I'm fine,” he murmured, probably the most he'd spoken all night, and Geoff let it go without a word.

Jack seemed to be the only calm one, although Geoff knew that was a front. Beyond his crossed legs and calm face were tapping feet and a set jaw, and a tightness that reflected more worry than Geoff had really realised.

But there was determination, too, for his dog, for their safety, and at the very least Geoff could respect that.

Geoff just focused on the road ahead, on driving them through it safely, even if getting through it safely didn’t matter when it could mean death for them on the other side.

With only dim lights, and driving slowly so as not to drive off the path or into a tree, the trip down took them over two hours. By the time they got out onto the dirt track that lead onto the open highway, the weight of the worry and atmosphere alone was enough to give them all second thoughts.

Except Jack, who was dead set on one thing. “How long is this dirt road?” he asked, and Geoff knew he was focused on getting to his dog.

He also wondered how far Jack would be willing to go for this.

Jack's ties to the two men in the car only extended so far. Geoff had repayed the life debt he'd owed him - Jack had saved him from the jeep and in return, Geoff had driven them from the heart of the chaos into safety, and then offered what hospitality he could.

That didn't leave them without a connection, but Jack's desire to save what may be the one thing he had left threatened to overshadow it. There were no bleeding hearts there - Geoff didn't take it personally, he understood, but he didn't care much for Jack's _dive head first into danger_ approach.

Especially when it put Gavin in the way of harm.

But he'd been through his time and time again, and he always seemed to end up at the same conclusion.

They needed to get a grip on what was going on here, and that was the bottom line.

He licked his lips and turned to Jack. “It turns into tar a few minutes before the highway, so we won’t leave any dust trails that should be noticeable.”

“How far are we from the residential area?”

“Ten minute drive.”

Jack cursed, quietly, and Geoff didn’t get a chance to ask him why before he was speaking again. “Where are we going to leave the car? It can’t be out in the open, and we can’t get too close because they’ll hear the engine, and if anybody spots us they’ll see on sight that it’s not a military jeep."

Geoff paused, then swore as well. "I don't know."

"The bike trails?" Gavin suggested, quietly. Jack and Geoff turned in their seats to face him.

"What bike trails?" Jack asked, at the same moment Geoff said "They haven't been used in years."

Gavin looked between them before turning to Geoff. "Worth a try, though. Unless you wanna walk there. We don't even have anywhere to park the car."

He had a point. Nervously, but somewhat relieved he'd spoken at all, Geoff started the car up again and backtracked, managing a five point turn to get him facing the way they'd came. They drove back to the dirt road until Gavin jabbed his finger to the glass and cried "There!".

Rocks cracked and popped under his tyres as Geoff turned right, starting the car down the trail that was nothing more than two thin, fading lines following a natural break in the trees. They drove down for a few minutes, scraping the sides and roof of the car with hanging tree branches, until they could drive no more.

"It turns off there," Gavin said, pointing.

"The car's too big to make the turn," Geoff muttered. "No use."

To their side was the remainder of the trail, but the gap through the trees was too small for them to be able to manoeuvre through. They'd have to reverse all the way back as it was, if they even made it back, and that was almost too much for Geoff to consider right now.

"But we're closer than we were," Gavin pointed out. "It turns off here, then a minutes walk and we're at the edge of the forest."

Geoff paused. He was right. "Okay," he said hesitantly, looking to Jack for confirmation. "Then I guess here's our stop."

There was an awkward, heavy moment of hesitation before Geoff pushed his door open. The trees were pressing in at each side, and there was barely enough for him to squeeze out. Jack had more trouble than he did, but Gavin slipped out fine, and eventually they were all standing in front of the car, looking down the dark trail ahead.

"Did anyone bring a torch?" Gavin asked, his voice small.

Jack shook his head, and Geoff did too. "I guess that's on the agenda for next time."

Next time. That was presuming a lot of things.

"Come on," Geoff whispered. Gavin fell in behind him as they crept along the abandoned path, eyes squinting in an attempt to help see what was in front of them. More often than not, Gavin tripped, and it was only Geoff's guiding hand that kept him steady.

He found his own sense of relief, just keeping constant contact with Gavin. It let him feel like he could hold on to him, and if he could just do that, he could keep him safe. 

It took them a few minutes, as slowly as they went, but soon they were standing at the edge of the forest, peering at the highway in front of them.

"Do we just cross it?" Geoff asked.

"And get ourselves killed?" Jack hissed. He reached up and wiped at his forehead, where sweat was beading.

The closer Geoff looked at him, the more nervous he got. Jack look _scared_ , his eyes wide behind his glasses, his tongue darting out nervously to wet his lips. Geoff side eyed him, unable to stop the way his own body received those signals and intensified his own fear. 

He barely realised he hadn’t given a response until Jack spoke again. "Where are we?"

"Don't you recognise it? We're in East Los Santos."

"What? But-"

"The bike track takes us out to near Murrieta Heights. It's a shortcut from here to the dirt road off the highway that leads into the forest."

"Why does it exist? And how do you know about it?"

Geoff almost called him out on how edgy he was, how _scared_ he was - wanted to tell him to pull it together and stop it, stop looking like every second out here was filling him with dread because just looking at him seemed to make everything worse.

But at the same time, it reminded him that they were really in serious potential danger - reminded him how close they'd been to being pumped full of bullets, that they couldn't afford to fuck around.

That despite how a tiny part of his mind kept wondering if it was _really_ happening, he needed to be prepared for anything.

He shifted, glanced at Jack once more, and answered briefly. "I know about it because I grew up here. This shit is my childhood. And it leads to the old camping grounds off the trail. Turn left about ten minutes drive in, before the dirt road turns to... well, overgrown shit, and there's the camping grounds."

"And your cabin is..."

"Like another two hours drive through the remaining track in the bush," Geoff half laughed. "The trails practically gone now, but we've travelled it enough times..." He trailed off and gestured to the road in front of them, aware they were wasting time, and let his actions speak for themselves.

"Alright," Jack nodded. He crept further towards the edge of the tree line, hunkering down, trying to make himself smaller. "Where do we go from here? To get to Emma?"

"We're about... two blocks out, if memory serves me correctly. What do you think, Gavin?" Geoff turned to look for Gavin when he heard no response. "...Gavin?"

"Jesus Christ," Jack managed, sounding horrified, and Geoff's attention was directed towards the lithe figure darting across the road. His heart shot into his throat as he watched the shadow duck off the road and behind a tree in someone's front garden.

Then, a second later, a hand popped out and impatiently waved them across.

With no choice but to follow, Geoff and Jack hurried across the road, head down, suddenly overcome by how vulnerable they were. In the line of trees that were the forests edge, Geoff and Jack were nothing but shadows, near impossible to pick out from the overwhelming trees and line of shrubbery that stood above them.

Now, they were still shadows, but unobscured by anything else, open and vulnerable to anything around them.

By the time Geoff collapsed against the tree Gavin was behind, his heart was racing and he'd broken out in a cold sweat. The run had only taken about five seconds, but he could still hear his footsteps echoing against the cold tarmac.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" he demanded, voice at a low hiss. He reached out to grab Gavin's arm, as if to stop him from running anywhere, but more to confirm to himself that Gavin was fine, they were fine. His heart was still pounding, and his stomach was twisted and heavy with fear.

All the potential bad scenarios in the world had shot through his mind in the short run across the street, and now he couldn't shake off the feeling that had settled in him.

Gavin yanked his arm away. "We're obviously here to do something. Why waste time yammering about when we can actually get this over with?"

Geoff shook his head, his mouth dry. "Anything could have happened to you," he said, trying to express the potential implications of how stupid Gavin's move was. In a way, he understood - the cover the trees had offered them made them seem invincible.

For Gavin, unaware and oblivious to Jack and Geoff and how they were gauging everything around them, tensions were low, and it was almost too easy to forgot that if Jack was right about this - and Geoff saw no reason to doubt him - then the danger they were in was immense. But in that second, Geoff's perspective had shifted that final bit, slipped in line with Jack's, and now he understood completely why he'd looked so damn afraid earlier.

"Well anything obviously didn't happen, if I'm standing right here."

Geoff put his face right up against Gavin's, eyes boring into Gavin's. "Gavin, listen to me. You might be refusing to accept that we could be in serious danger right now, but I'm not, and we don't know what we're dealing with."

Jack talked over him. "I don't fucking care what you think," he said, "don't be a goddamn idiot!"

Interestingly enough, that seemed to quiet him down. Geoff had no idea what Gavin was thinking, except that he wasn't saying it, so he turned to Jack.

"So, how do we-" He was cut off by Gavin hitting him on the leg. "What the-"

"Shh!" Gavin pressed his fingers to his lips.

Geoff wiped the spit off his face and listened.

At first, it was nothing more than a deep rumble that echoed at them through the quiet night. As they listened, it slowly grew louder, and soon the sound was loud enough for them to hear first hand.

"Is that a motorbike?" Jack asked. It was the distinctive sound of an engine, but it had the same rumbly quality that had Geoff inching forward to peek out from behind the tree. He squinted down the street as the source of the noise turned into it, loud enough that Geoff knew it couldn't be good.

But he didn't expect what he saw.

His eyes widened. "Oh, _shit_."

Jack, who'd been peering around the other side, quickly dragged him back. Geoff looked around wildly, eyes flicking between Jack, who was staring at him, equally as shocked, and Gavin, who was trying to peek out and see what it was.

His eyes met with Jack's and in unison, they turned to the flimsy tree they were hiding behind, just as headlights lit up the street in front of them. Geoff looked at it for a second and grabbed Gavin's arm.

" _Run_ ," he hissed, and didn't wait before he let him go and ran for the house they were in front of.

He didn't have time to glance over his shoulder before he reached the small side gate and jumped it, the rattling noise it made when he launched himself over it seeming ten times louder than it should have.

He hit the ground and turned hard right, skidding so hard he hit the ground and scrambling forward to proper cover behind the house.

Of course, that was no protection against a fucking _tank_.

He lay panting against the grass as Gavin and Jack joined him, eyes wide and faces stark white in the moonlight.

Slowly, the gravelly engine reached the house they were hidden behind and kept going. In the darkness, the three of them stared at each other, and neither of them made a sound until the tank's engine had faded into the distance.

"Was that a fucking tank?" Jack whispered.

"That was a fucking tank," Geoff managed.

Gavin was still staring at both of them, mouth open. He had dirt on his face from where he'd tripped jumping over the fence.

They sat in silence for a few long minutes, shaking but oblivious to the cold.

"Do we want to keep going?" Geoff finally asked, when they had their breathing under control, but he was prepared to give the answer regardless. No fucking way. Not when there was this-- a _tank_ , driving around residential streets in the middle of the night. This was beyond insanity, but any lingering doubts Geoff could have held were blown into oblivion.

He turned to Gavin, but Jack beat him to it.

"Still doubt me?" he asked, but there wasn't any bitterness behind his tone. He still looked shellshocked.

"Coulda been anyone's tank," Gavin said dully, not even bothering to hide the fact that he'd harboured doubts about what Jack had told them.

Jack didn't answer him, instead turning to Geoff. "Do you think-" he cut himself off, nose subconsciously scrunching. Before Geoff could ask what it was, he blanched.

"Jesus Christ," he said, covering the bottom half of his face with his sleeve. He gestured for Gavin to do the same, and hesitantly, the smaller man did. It was obvious he didn't smell it yet, but Geoff knew his gag reflex, and the last thing he wanted was Gavin retching loudly into the bushes.

A second later, he must have smelt it anyway, because he bent double on his knees and gagged into his hand.

"What died?" Geoff asked, and it hit him a second later that that wasn't such a smart thing to say. The look Jack gave him just confirmed it. "Do you think..." He trailed off and looked up at the house.

Jack looked between him and the house and shook his head. "It's too strong," he whispered. "Whatever it is, it's down here."

Geoff shivered, and it wasn't the cool night air against his skin.

Gavin suddenly gagged harder into his hands, his eyes watering, and jerked backwards. He landed on his ass and scuttled away, shoving himself along the grass with little regard to what was behind him.

It took Geoff a moment to see what he'd reacted so strongly too, but when he saw it, he wasn't surprised.

"Guess we found the answer to that," he said softly.

Jack followed his gaze long enough to see the chain tied to the clothesline and looked away, unwilling to see any more. His stomach dropped and he felt tears prick at his eyes, and he was filled with a new sense of determination.

"We have to find her," he whispered, when Geoff looked at him in surprise. "Emma."

Slowly, Geoff nodded, and got to his feet. He couldn’t stop him, and they weren’t very far-- maybe going with him wasn’t the worst idea.

He turned to Gavin, who was still backed up against the fence, and offered him a hand. Gavin took it after a moment of regaining himself and allowed Geoff to pull him to his feet, one hand secured over his mouth the entire time.

"I don't know which way to go," Jack confessed. He kept turning towards the clothesline and then jerking himself away at the last moment, afraid to actually see what he knew would break his heart.

"I can get you to your street," Geoff said confidently. He hadn't noticed how cold it was before, and he didn't now, but the puff of air that he blew out was warm enough in comparison to be able to see.

He gestured towards the back fence, and Jack turned to him. "Even if she's not okay, we have to try," he insisted.

"That's what we're doing, buddy."

Jack blew out a breath as Gavin joined them, uncovering his mouth long enough to say, "What do you think... happened?"

Geoff shook his head. "There's no blood, so probably dehydration."

They shared a guilty look when Jack recoiled.

"Alright, time to go, I think," Gavin said nervously, voice muffled through the two hands he had covering his mouth.

Geoff nodded his agreement and they shuffled towards the fence, afraid to move too fast, but afraid to move too slow. When they approached it, they looked around at each other before Geoff dropped to one knee, gesturing for Gavin to go.

He did, and he hopped over the fence with minimal effort. He could have jumped it with enough of a run up, but all of them felt too shaky and nervous to move fast, like their brains would be left behind and all they'd be doing is running, right into the heart of whatever was going on here.

Although, Geoff had a feeling that where they were, they were seeing the least of it. They were on the outskirts of East Los Santos, and Jack had said that he'd been in the middle of the big city, near the Maze Bank Arena when everything had gone down.

Here, it was empty, almost deserted, just like it had been when they'd come through originally. Except now, there were tanks around. Geoff shuddered to think how lucky they'd been when they'd first come through. What they'd obliviously passed by, what they hadn't seen, the things they hadn't pieced together...

He thought of Gavin's face when he'd made a connection - " _The jets!_ ", and the way he'd slammed his hands down on the sofa. He thought of Jack, burying his face in his hands - " _Most of them came from Los Santos, the_ _International_ _Airport_ _there..."_

"They're spreading out," he said aloud. He saw Gavin and Jack turn to him questioningly, and he realised he'd paused in the middle of the yard. He hurried to catch up. "You said they started from Los Santos Airport, right? A _wall of soldiers_... and they herded everyone who was at the heart of the city into easily sealable areas?"

"I only know of Maze Bank," Jack said thoughtfully. "But it makes sense..."

"Where else? It's a big city, so unless they're killing off everybody they find who they didn't capture in the original move..."

"Isn't that what they're doing?"

Geoff looked at him, but Gavin interrupted him with an impatient noise. "Who is _they_?" he demanded. He ran his hands up and down his bare arms and Geoff barely bit back an insult for not bringing a jacket. He’d forgotten to remind him, too, and that was his fault.

"The soldiers?" Jack guessed his whisper loud in the night. "I don't know _anything_."

"Apparently," Gavin muttered.

"Knock it off," Geoff warned. "I can't believe we're trying not to _die_ and you two are fucking bickering."

As he'd hoped, his comment got them to stop, but it also lightened the tension that had been weighing down on them just enough to get them walking again, moving along at a half crouch until they reached the next street.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Jack asked.

Geoff shook his head, then nodded. "A few minutes walk from your house," he said, when he realised Jack wasn't looking at him.

Wisely, Jack had his eyes focused on scanning the street for any sign of moment. He found none, because he made a quick gesture to Geoff and Gavin and hurried across. Geoff waved Gavin across first, and when he was safely with Jack against the fence of the house opposite, Geoff steeled himself and ran after them.

He wasn't entirely convinced he made it. He was sure the tank would come rumbling around the corner any second, even though he knew they'd hear it from a distance. People, on the other hand, soldiers, could be anywhere. With that thought in mind, he made it across safely and immediately hurried them along, taking the lead.

A few minutes later, all of them biting back fear, they arrived at Jack's house.

It was trashed.

The front windows were shattered and glass littered the lawn. The front door was nonexistent and the area around it was covered in bullet holes, wood splintered and sticking out everywhere, even the ground at their feet.

Jack didn't hesitate. He ran straight through the hole in the middle where the front door used to be and started looking around.

" _Jesus_ ," Geoff cursed quietly, and after a moment of frantic hesitation he grabbed Gavin and followed him in. The inside was worse, the wallpaper splattered with blood and riddled with bullet holes.

Gavin wandered from Geoff's side, and he watched him approach the end of the hallway, kicking up plaster and dust that had settled in his wake. He reached out to touch one of the bullet holes like he couldn't believe it was real, and Geoff followed his gaze to the floor, where glints of steel gave away the shells that covered the ground.

Jack came out of one of the side rooms, his expression grim.

Neither of them asked as he led them out through the shattered patio door, feet crunching over glass as he hurried to the dog kennel. He fell to his knees in front of it, letting out a quiet, keening wail, and pulled a slumped figure into his arms.

Geoff looked away, and Gavin gripped his forearm tight.

Jack's grief was palpable, and they fought back their own emotions as he clutched at the still form in his arms.

He whispered something they didn't hear, and Geoff was trying to figure out what to say to ease the moment when suddenly Jack stiffened.

"She moved," he whispered hoarsely, pushing back the overwhelming hopelessness to feed the tiny flame of hope. He felt around for a pulse, almost too emotional to tell if he was imagining it or not, but when he forced his practiced hands to stop shaking he knew he couldn't imagine the weak _thump thump_ he felt under his fingers.

He choked out orders as he pulled her eyelids back to check for movement. "There's some water in a clear jug under the cabinet in the fridge. Go get it. Now!"

Geoff left to search for it, and Gavin hesitantly approached. "Is she... you know?"

"She's breathing," Jack said, and his voice cracked with emotion. "But she's weak. Her water bowl's knocked over, she's so dehydrated. Goddamn it, where's Geoff?"

"It's only been a few seconds--"

"Here," Geoff called, as loudly as he dared in the quiet. He jogged across the grass to them, water jug sloshing in his arms.

Jack took the jug without a word and turned the water bowl the right way up so he could pour some water in. He put it on the ground and lifted the dog's head, nudging it tentatively towards the water.

"C'mon," he urged, quietly.

Emma sniffed, then nosed at the water bowl gently. She gave a broken whine and nosed it again, and with some more gentle coaxing from Jack, put her mouth to the water and began to slowly lap.

Jack's relief was so strong they could almost taste it, and when he looked up at them, his eyes were shining.

"She'll be okay?" Gavin asked, fidgeting. He leaned forward and very gently placed his hand on the dog's head. She ignored him, focusing on lapping up the water. She finished the bowl, and Jack refilled it, keeping a watchful eye on her to make sure she didn't drink too much at once.

"We'll have to carry her back," he said, like it wasn't obvious.

Gavin nodded, but Geoff put his hands up. "Wait," he said. When they looked at him in shock, he hurried on, "No, _that's_ fine. But I want to get a better look around here first."

"What more could you want to see?" Jack asked. "Tanks, deserted homes, dead bodies..." He hugged Emma closer. "If it was light enough, I'm sure you could see the blood in the streets, too. Hell, just go into my living room."

Geoff didn't comment on the bitterness in his voice, and Jack was quick to turn his attention back to Emma.

"Look, she obviously needs a bit of help. How about you and Gavin stay here, and I'll go check out things a little closer to Downtown."

"As if," Gavin said, at the same time Jack said "Why?"

"Because I want to see what I can see. Where is everyone? Where else are they being held? How many other survivors are there? And more importantly, Jack, good question - _why_?"

Jack thought about that. In his desperate need to survive, he hadn't had much time to dwell on the _why_ , or the _who_ , or anything further than keeping his head above the water.

But Geoff was right. Maybe they didn't _need_ to know why, but now that he realised he had no idea, he wanted to.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"I don't have a fucking clue, to be honest." Geoff looked around. "Further in town."

"You're goddamn _suicidal._ " Gavin looked horrified.

Geoff shrugged. "I was in the army half my life," he reminded him. "I know how to be incognito."

"No way." Gavin shook his head. "No way in _hell_."

"You volunteering to come?" When Gavin's face twisted with fear, Geoff reached out and put a solid hand on his shoulder. "Stay with Jack."

"No way," Gavin tried. "It's probably bloody mental out there."

"More reason for you to stay. _No_ ," he said, when Gavin started to argue, "we aren't going to have that mushy moment where you say _Geoff, wherever you go, I go._ This is the moment when you _stay_ with _Jack_ , make no noise, and try not to get yourself killed."

He pulled him into a tight hug, and Gavin returned it.

Geoff handed him the keys. "Just fucking take them," he said, when Gavin crossed his arms defiantly. He gave in and, chewing at his lip, took them. Geoff nodded at him, then Jack.

"Don't fucking die," he said, and then he was gone. 


	8. an inkling of it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh, long wait. sorry! hope you enjoy the new chapter <3
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!

Gavin watched him leave, and in his wake a wave washed over him, a jumbled mess of emotions that he couldn't begin to sort through. It was made worse by the fact that the tattooed man didn't even glance back, just disappeared around the fence in silence, and the tension was left riding high in the air, but with nothing left for them to do.

Then Gavin looked at Jack, and at the gun on his belt.

He'd forgotten about it - only really noticed it when they'd made it into the yard and collapsed there, and the gun had glinted in the moonlight and drawn his gaze to it. It had drawn his gaze hard steel and the promise of safety, and as far as Gavin was concerned, it only meant good for them.

Assuming Jack could use it and wasn't going to turn on them.

Jack noticed him looking, so with careful hands, trying not to disturb the dog in his lap, he pulled the gun from his waistline, holding it up so Gavin could see it. The moonlight bounced off the steel and into Gavin's eyes. 

"You know how to use it?" Jack asked.

Gavin shook his head, brain ticking slowly. An idea came to mind and his eyes darted to Jack, then back to the gun. "... But Geoff will."

"What?"

Without another word Gavin threw the keys at him, a frantic _swap me!_ that Jack didn't have a chance to deny. He caught the keys on reflex as Gavin snatched the gun, realising too late what the other man had done.

Gavin took off towards the street after Geoff, and Jack barely stopped himself from letting out a yell.

" _Idiot!_ " he hissed, and he rose to a half standing position before he remembered the dog in his lap. Emma let out a whine, and he knew he couldn't leave her, so he watched Gavin go with a growing sense of anger and helplessness.

He patted Emma with one hand and clutched the keys tightly with the other, no choice left but to wait.

 

* * *

 

Geoff was halfway down the street when he heard a noise behind him. There was a clatter that echoed through the street, and then silence, painfully obvious following the disturbance in the otherwise quiet night.

His heart shot into his throat, and he darted into the shadows to wait.

Barely a minute later, someone moved hesitantly past him. Geoff stepped out behind them and raised his arm to bring his weapon down on their head - a brick he'd picked up from someone's driveway - and stopped at the last minute.

"Gavin?" he hissed.

Gavin turned around and squawked when he saw what he was doing. "Argh - don't hurt me! It's me!"

Geoff threw the brick he'd been holding into the bushes and grabbed Gavin by the mouth, dragging him backwards. Gavin gagged into his hand, exactly why Geoff didn't know, but when he'd pulled them to the ground behind the cover of the bush he didn't care.

"What the _fuck_?" he hissed, anger boiling. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Jesus, Geoff," Gavin groaned weakly, wiping his mouth. "You put your fingers in my mouth."

Geoff stared at him. "Are you really this fucking dumb?"

"Well you don't need to - _oh_! Here." Gavin handed him a gun.

Geoff switched his gaze to stare at it. "Is this... how the hell-"

"Jack, remember? He had a-"

"Right." Geoff shook his head and moved the gun, trying to see it better in the darkness. He felt for the safety, relief coursing through him when it was on. It was too dark to see much else, so he put in his jeans at the small of his back and turned to Gavin. "Go back."

Gavin looked affronted. "No! I'm here now! I had to overpower Jack."

"Keep your fucking voice--” Geoff made down motions at him. "Keep quiet, for fucks sake, this isn't a fucking joke. What are you doing?"

"I know it's not a joke, and obviously I'm coming with you. You can try and convince me not to come, but-"

As if on cue, the sound of distance engines approaching reached their ears. They shared a glance and backed up further, conversation momentarily forgotten, fear making their hearts pump harder. Geoff heard Gavin's breathing pick up as they dropped to their stomachs and wriggled backwards, trying to find cover amongst the small garden.

It was too late to try and run, and Gavin didn't think he could get his legs to work even if they tried, because there was something ominous about the sound of something driving slowly up an abandoned street. They were relatively well hidden, but that didn't ease the sudden certainty in his chest that whoever was coming towards them knew that they were there.

Headlights lit up the bushes in front of them, beaming into their faces, and Gavin's breathing caught so violently in his chest that it took all his willpower not to choke.

Then, agonisingly slowly, they passed by, and the relief that he barely got a chance to feel was cut short by the next pair of lights that washed over the street, the house, the _garden,_ lighting up their faces for a short second that felt like the longest time of their lives.

They passed, but more came, another three sets, before the convoy of military trucks passed them by completely and continued down the road.

As soon as they'd turned the corner Gavin collapsed into the soil, twitchy and vulnerable, his heart racing so hard it hurt.

"Fuck," Geoff muttered, lowly. He looked caught out, scared, but not nearly as petrified as Gavin. "I think they were going into town."

Gavin took a moment to try and get his mouth working. "Maybe they're doing patrols?" he offered. He got his shaky legs under him and was the first to try to stand, but he kept at a low crouch.

Geoff hesitated, then followed him up, looking less concerned at what had just happened and more concerned with what it meant. "It'd make sense. If they're not killing everyone off, which doesn't make sense - why would they kill everybody, but keep hostages?"

"Slaves?" Gavin tried. He wasn't thinking too clearly.

"No..." Geoff trailed off, and Gavin squinted at him, trying to tell what he was thinking.

All he could make out was that in the darkness, Geoff looked determined.

Gavin was almost afraid to ask. "What?"

"We're going Downtown."

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Jack was sitting in their car, humming a soothing song under his breath and patting Emma.

After a lot of awkward manoeuvring, painful conscientiousness of every noise, and a lot of murmured comforts, Jack had positioned Emma in the backseat, lying down, with her water bowl up near her head and a blanket over her.

Now that she was safe, he could turn his mind to other things, but despite his attempts to keep himself focused and ready his mind kept drifting back to the fact that Gavin and Geoff were out there alone.

They didn't know he was here, at the car, that he'd gotten antsy and logic had won out so he'd left his old home and ran, but he hoped they'd have the smarts to figure it out and find him.

He was regretting not leaving some sort of note back at Emma’s kennel - he could easily have gone back into the house, looked for some sort of writing material and a pen - anything, but he hadn't.

He felt like he'd deserted them, but he vehemently denied it.

He wasn't leaving without them. He'd stay until they came; he was safe enough here.

Almost automatically, he checked his watch. It was bearing on two and a half hours since Gavin had taken off after Geoff, and less than that since he'd taken the jug of water and Emma's water bowl, along with Emma, and carried them to safety.

In the time he’d been sitting there, he'd counted two patrols, and more than once heard the far off rumbling of the tank that thankfully never came any closer. It was enough to spook him, to feed the uneasy feeling in his gut, and even Emma had whined when one of the patrols had passed shouting soldiers breaking the silence of the streets.

So he'd waited, and when the road was long silent, and he could hear nothing besides his own breathing and the occasional chirps of crickets, he'd fled. But even though he held the keys in his hand, he would not leave without the two men he'd came here with.

He only hoped that if Geoff and Gavin came back at all, they could find him. He'd had enough trouble searching for where they'd exited the woods - the bike path, what was left of it, was nearly impossible to see in the dark. It had been more of blind luck that he'd stumbled on it, but he'd known enough from there to follow it deeper into the bush until he'd nearly walked into the car.

He focused on the fact that they'd been the ones to show it to him. If he could find it, they could too. So he tried to push the thought from his mind entirely and focus on something else.

He'd checked Geoff's phone - barely remembered a few minutes ago, when he'd first been bothered by the feeling of uselessness, but it had been pointless.

They'd waited too long. Even with keeping the phone off, it had run itself out of battery.

The only chance he'd had of contacting his family was gone. At least he was blessed with the knowledge that they were out of San Andreas, probably safe, and that was all he could ever hope for.

So he clutched at Emma, comforted by her presence, but it didn't last.

And then Jack was worrying again, hands pressed together as if in prayer.

 

* * *

 

He didn't wait long.

Not even an hour later, two figures came stumbling up the bushy path towards him. He blinked in shock, too surprised for a moment to do anything, then threw open the drivers door and got out. He approached them quickly, not even considering that it might not be them.

It only hit him once it was too late, and he was in front of them, but by then they were close enough for him to make out their features and his hands shook with relief when Gavin passed him by, heading straight for the car.

"What happened?" Jack asked, not quite a whisper.

Geoff looked at him, and Jack saw something drip down his forehead. He reached out, afraid it was blood, but when Geoff pushed past him and passed through a beam of moonlight, filtered through the trees, Jack saw it was just sweat.

Then the sounds of their heavy breathing registered in his ears.

They'd been running.

From someone? Something?

He turned mechanically to follow them the short distance back to the car. "What happened?" he asked again. "Were you followed? Is everything okay?"

Geoff shook his head and climbed in the already open door to the drivers seat. "We weren't followed," he said, when Jack stiffened in alarm. "At least, not that I know of."

"Where did you go?" He was almost afraid of the answer.

Geoff gestured for him to get in the passenger seat. Jack did so, remembering at the last minute Emma positioned across the seats in the back, but Gavin had already squeezed in the spare space and buckled up.

"I was thinking," Geoff started, checking the rear view mirror and starting up the car, "that there had to be a reason that some people were taken hostage in the Maze Bank Arena, but the rest of us are getting shot."

"Right," Jack said, thinking that over, "So did you go to the Arena?"

In the backseat, Gavin scoffed.

Geoff put the car in reverse, leftover sweat still trailing down his face from his hairline. "No way. We made it to South Los Santos, and we figured it was time to come back."

"What'd you see?" Jack pressed.

"The same fucking thing," Geoff said. "That's why we came back. More goddamn empty streets, more fucking convoys, but the further in we got, the more soldiers there were. Like, actual soldiers doing actual patrols of the streets."

"It started before we got to South Los Santos," Gavin added. Jack looked at him in the rear view mirror and noticed how tired he looked.

"But they weren't going door to door, at least that we could see," Geoff agreed. "They were just patrolling. Shining lights in backyards, and shit."

"How did you get so far?"

"Very fucking stupidly," Geoff admitted. "All we did was hide in backyards and run when we thought people were coming. Then we started seeing the patrols every street or two, and we couldn't risk it."

"So you didn't find out anything," Jack said, half relieved, half disappointed.

There was a loud crash and the car jolted violently as Geoff backed into a tree. Emma yelped and slid off the seat, and Gavin busied himself with pulling her back up again.

"Fuck!" he yelled, and the silence afterwards seemed somehow louder.

He put it in drive and crept forward, then tried reversing again. This time, he passed the tree without hitting it. "It's fucking hard reversing this shitty fucking path in the pitch fucking black," he told them.

"It's okay," Gavin said. He wrapped his arms around the dog on the seat to prevent her sliding off again. 

"We can't do this again," Geoff said, shaking his head. "It's too fucking far and too goddamn hard to reverse back down."

"We'll think of something," Jack assured him, even though he had no idea.

Geoff just scoffed, and they were silent for a few minutes while he painstakingly reversed out of the narrow bike path. Finally, just when his patience was coming to an end, they backed onto the dirt road off the highway. His relief was obvious.

"We did find something out, by the way," he said. "We got a name, a vague idea on what's going on. The depressing realisation that this is bigger than I'd thought."

He didn’t look like he was aware he’d voiced that last part aloud. In the weak moonlight, he looked determined, sweat still beading and dripping down his face, his mouth set in a thin line.

"What?" Jack asked, after a moment, still staring at him. "How?"

"Some asshole that's in charge of all this.” He blew a long breath out of his nose. “He’s the one orchestrating everything. All the soldiers, they're some new age army type shit, and they're determined to make the entirety of Los Santos their property. Fuck, probably even all of San Andreas, for all we know."

"Why?"

In response, Geoff shrugged.

"He's a lunatic?" Gavin suggested.

"Apparently," Jack muttered.

"But a successful one. Whoever he hasn't caught yet are too scared to fight back. So essentially, between the ground he gained so far - which seems to be up to South Los Santos, and who knows how far out the other way, he might have all the way up to Pacific Bluffs - and the scare tactics he's employing by massacring everyone he hasn't captured yet..."

He trailed off and met Gavin's eyes in the rear-view mirror, the weight of unwanted knowledge bearing down on both of them.

"Whoever Haywood is, he's trying to take over the whole goddamn city." 


	9. it leaves silently, returns with a bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah shitty wait oops but boy am i excited for the next few chapters because character introductions! yay! 
> 
> thank you to everyone who reads this im sorry and i love you all <3 
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <3

By the time Geoff had made the drive back to his cabin, he and Gavin were exhausted. Jack was tired, but he could still function, so he offered to park the car under some trees for extra coverage while Geoff and Gavin got to bed.

"I'm gunna have to teach you the path up soon," Geoff told him, in between gulping down mouthfuls of water. "Since you're gunna be staying here."

He left for bed after that, but Jack was lost in thought.

Geoff’s words rung in his ears. _Since he'd be staying here._ In the long run.

Because there was no foreseeable end to this war, this invasion, whatever it was - because if it kept going how it was going, there was no knowing what the end result could be.

It had been a week and a half and the streets were bare of regular people, and patrols were roaming freely around over half of Los Santos.

Of course, if anything had happened, any rebel groups that could form (but how _could_ they?) any resistance groups, or any form of fighting back, they had no way of knowing of their existence.

Even when Jack had been in Murrieta Heights, he'd had no word about anything. The only things he knew were what he'd seen for himself and what other survivors had told him.

They'd been completely cut off.

Realistically, he guessed that was part of the plan. It made sense - Geoff was right, whoever was in charge was employing scare tactics, because the survivors that had escaped the initial invasion wave - and the merciless massacres afterwards - were too scared to talk.

Not only that, they were too scared to come out from their homes. Jack had met the few he'd made contact with at gas stations, at supermarkets, even at the pharmacy, where he'd had the same idea as many and looted it.

People had only really emerged when they were in need. Apart from that, it seemed like Los Santos was turning into a ghost town.

Jack didn't sleep much that night, just lay awake, staring up at the roof above him like he could fly through it and into the uncaring stars above.

* * *

 

"So what the fuck are we gunna do?" Geoff asked the next morning, when they'd woken up to the sounds of the wilderness around them and Jack bustling around in the central room.

As soon as he'd seen Gavin hovering uncertainly around his doorway, unsure as to what to do, Geoff had called an impromptu meeting.

He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward in the chair.

"Survive," Jack replied, simply.

"Not go back out there," Gavin said at the same time. When Jack and Geoff turned to him, he looked surprised. "What? It was mental out there, I'm not going back!"

"Nothing even happened to us," Geoff responded, not quite arguing, but something in his tone defiant nonetheless.

"And I'd like to keep it like that," Gavin scoffed, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What about everyone else? The survivors?" Jack looked between them. “The people stuck in the place you don’t want to go back to?”

Gavin pulled a face. "What about them?"

Jack gaped, and Geoff let out a quiet sigh and rubbed at his temples.

"They need help!” Jack burst out. “Not everybody has a magical cabin in the forest to run off to when something bad happens, Gavin!" He gestured towards him. "They’re helpless out there!”

"Come on, this is escalating quickly," Geoff tried, but Gavin talked over him.

“Look, not to sound like a heartless bastard, but I’m sure they can fend for themselves.”

“Against a tank? Against _multiple_? Against enemies who have every distinct advantage I can think of? And even if they can survive for now, how long will that last? Eventually, unless this war ends or we find some drastic change, they’ll all die some way or another.”

“Have a little faith in them,” Gavin said.

“Like I had faith in you? When you were standing in the middle of the street, watching a military jeep come straight at you?”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably. Geoff was silent, looking between the two in deliberation.

“That was different,” Gavin said eventually. “We were clueless. Also, we’re idiots.”

Jack shook his head, stunned. He opened his mouth to try and reply, found it hopeless, and closed it again. With a deep, world weary sigh, he turned to Geoff.

Jack ignored him, but Geoff watched Gavin as the younger boy moved away to pat Emma, who had started whining at the raised voices. When he looked back, he was met with the bearded man giving him an imploring look.

“Look. Even when I was with other people, we had no plans for the long run. No idea what to do when the food we had ran out, or if somebody got injured."

“You keep talking like this isn’t going to end soon.”

“You keep talking like it will.”

Geoff crossed his tattooed arms. “You don’t know that it won’t.”

“And you don’t know that it will.” Jack pointed out, looking at him evenly. Geoff frowned at his simple rebuttals, but he couldn’t contest the legitimacy of them.

The bearded man leaned forward and lowered his tone. “ _You_ were the one that came back here and said ' _It's bigger than I'd thought'_. You were the one that said it was spread to South, and maybe to the Bluffs.”

“Well yeah, but-”

“You were down there last night, not me."

Geoff put his head in his hands, and Jack knew he'd made his point.

“Right,” he said. “It's just... even though I was down there last night, it's kind of hard to accept it.”

Jack frowned. “Accept what?”

“That some dude with a boner for power is trying to take over _fucking Los Santos_!”

“Not trying,” Jack corrected, “Succeeding.”

Geoff let out a loud, frustrated groan, and they all fell quiet for a moment.

“So," he finally said, and Jack looked back at him. "What, you want to risk our lives by going down and smuggling people out?”

Jack thought that over for a long moment, tapping his fingers pensively, before he shrugged. “If needs be, yes.”

“No.” Geoff said immediately. “Fuck that.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Gavin seconded, from across the room, “screw that.”

Jack started to get to his feet.

“Hey, now hold on,” Geoff said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. “I’m not against helping people. But I am against getting ourselves _killed_ doing it. We established that this is a clusterfuck, it's big, and it might not end anytime soon.”

“But-”

“ _Our_ priority, first and foremost, is to survive. You're the one saying prepare for the eventuality that this doesn't end, _fine_. You're right, and I'm admitting that. So _until_ it ends, until we’re the last people left, until it turns out this is actually a really realistic reality tv show-”

“Nice alliteration.”

“Gavin, focus. We need supplies. We need strategies. We need to start thinking about _survival_. That's our priority. We ignored it last night when we got Jack's dog-"

"Ermy," Gavin offered.

"Emma," Jack corrected.

"... and when we checked out as close to Downtown as we could get, but now that this is undoubtedly, hands down, a legitimate military situation, we have to start thinking about the long run."

“Right." Gavin looked somewhat daunted as Geoff's words sunk in.

Jack watched as the smugness faded from his expression within seconds, replaced by a distant pressing together of his lips. He could practically see the words running over in his mind.

Geoff cleared his throat and directed his next words at Jack. “Which means other people aren’t our priority.”

That brought his attention back to the conversation. “You can’t just disregard other human life like that.”

“I’m not. You ever heard of triage, Jack?”

“Of course I have.” Jack looked insulted. “I’m a vet. And it’s not the same thing!”

“We’re in a state of emergency," Geoff pointed out. "We don’t have any serious injuries yet, and as Gavin said, I’d like to keep it like that. Now, listen, I’m not heartless. When we get ourselves sorted, and when we wrap our heads around this - because I know for a fact how hard being disillusioned can be - then we can think about other people. Alright?”

“I just refuse to believe it’s not a priority to go down and help other people before it gets worse.” Jack threw his hands up in exasperation.

“If you wanna go down there, keys are on the bench,” Geoff offered. “Nobody’s keeping you here.”

“You realise I’m the reason you’re alive, right? If I didn’t see you standing in the street that I _knew_ someone would soon be coming down, and I didn’t choose to actively go out there and help you, you’d probably be dead?”

“ _Listen_ to me,” Geoff snapped. “If you’re absolutely set on it, and if you can think of a safe, secure way to help people that doesn’t involve running around blindly in the middle of the night, then we’ll do it. But we’ve got problems to deal with.”

“But-”

“Big problems. Like food.”

That gave Jack pause, and Geoff took advantage of that. "If you can think of a solution to that, and all the other fucking shit we have, then come and talk to me."

From her position in the corner, Emma whined at them, and without another word, Jack got up to pat her. He passed Gavin on the way, who took a deliberate step to the side to avoid getting closer than necessary.

Jack ignored him, and Gavin returned to Geoff.

"Well said," he nodded. "Put him in his place, I'd say."

Geoff ignored his pettiness. "Look, Gavin. Jack raises some good points."

"He does?"

Jack glanced at them, then turned back to Emma, apparently deciding they weren't worth his time.

"He does," Geoff affirmed. "Look. I know that deep down inside, you really are an asshole, and you don't have a heart-"

"None whatsoever," Gavin nodded.

"- and you don't want to think about anyone aside from yourself right now, but there are people out there who are dying. Think about it. Jack saved us. He _saved_ us," he insisted, when Gavin opened his mouth to argue, "because he tried to drag us from the street and he left his door open for us. People died in that house, Gavin, probably because of us."

"We weren't the ones who accidentally shot a goddamn gun!"

Geoff looked skeptical. "If, by the end of this, you haven't accidentally shot even one round by accident, I will honest to god suck your dick."

"No!" Gavin cried. "God, Geoff, you're bloody mental right now. You want to go out and probably get ourselves killed trying to help random people? With all those soldiers patrollin' around?" His voice dropped. "You saw how many there were last night, Geoff!"

"Yes, but no," Geoff disagreed easily. "I'm not saying _go out and fight them_ , I'm saying lets survive, and let's help other people survive. And if we can do that well enough, which with you around I sincerely _doubt_ ,-"

"And you're fine with that," Gavin interrupted doubtfully. “Fine with risking ourselves out there.”

Geoff wasn't sure whether the thoughtful look on his face was a good sign or not. He'd been so grateful when Gavin had started to return to his usual mannerisms that he hadn't stopped to wonder whether he should still be treading lightly.

It was possible Gavin was still shaken up from the events of the last few days. More than likely, in retrospect, and Geoff felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t been more observant.

Maybe he needed to go about this a different way.

"Gavin," he started, carefully. "Do you want to go back out there?"

“Are you a bloody moron?” Gavin asked.

“I know what you’re saying. That you don’t want to be in danger. But I’m asking does that mean that you don’t ever want to return.”

“There's tanks out there, Geoff!" he practically chirped. “Hard to miss the bloody things!”

Geoff was left exasperated, his brow creased in annoyance at Gavin's refusal to take things seriously. But beneath it ran an undercurrent of relief, because at least he was acting closer to his usual self.

The odd, shell-shocked version of how Gavin had been still played on Geoff's mind, and he wasn’t sure whether the small differences he noticed now were leftover, or Geoff’s imagination.

"I can't believe you," Jack piped up. He was frowning at Gavin, still crouched over with Emma, and Geoff groaned. Loudly.

“We just fucking went through this,” he pointed out, and went ignored.

Jack stared accusingly at Gavin. "You really don't want to go down and help anybody?"

"How are we gunna help, Jack?" Gavin asked, sitting on the couch and putting his feet up. "We go down there, we get ourselves killed. I fail to see how that helps anybody, except maybe the enemy."

"The enemy?" Jack scoffed, laughing at his elementary choice of words. "You've seen the state of the streets out there and you want to leave the people stuck in it to die?"

"Or survive, until this blows over. You want to risk going house to house looking for survivors?"

Geoff couldn’t help but make a noise of agreement, resigned to the fact that this conversation was happening and perhaps the best course of action was to get it over with quickly.

"They'd probably shoot us on sight,” he chimed in.

"I have a gun," Jack reminded them. He ignored Gavin's scoff of " _What, are you gunna shoot them when they shoot us? Yeah, that'll help.”_

Almost as if he realised he no longer held the weapon, he stood. "Well, I'd like it back."

"On the counter." Geoff pointed. "How'd you get it?"

"I've had it since I got my handgun license two years ago."

"So you know how to use it?"

"Use it, clean it, keep it working."

"Good. Now that's out of the way." Geoff jabbed a finger at Gavin. "He's an idiot. He doesn't know shit about guns, or self defence. I was in the army for a fair few fuckin' years, I know my way around a lot of guns. Now you, you can use a hand gun. Good. That's basic for self defence- so I’m thinking, if anyone comes up here, we're okay."

He turned to tilt his head towards the track leading down through the forest. "But going down there, to them, that's something different."

"I understand that," Jack said.

Geoff ignored him. "You said it yourself, you think they're working outward. Which means that either they get stopped, or they get the whole city."

“Right. So-”

"What happens if they get the whole city?" Gavin's question left an awkward silence that seemed to ring through the cabin.

"Won't happen," Geoff said eventually. "Our military, our cops - there's no way some guy can just come out of _nowhere_ with an army big enough to take over Los Santos."

"He had the element of surprise on his side," Jack reminded him. "And a huge head start. Plus, it's been a week, and no sign that all the police force or military is stopping anything. They might all be dead, for what we know."

Gavin jabbed an accusatory finger at him. "Yet you want to go into the heart of it and look for survivors."

Jack sighed, defeated. "I just hate the thought of so many innocent people out there, floundering and desperate, while we're up here all cosy."

"There's a difference between being a coward and surviving," Geoff said. "Unless you're suggesting we march in there with our single gun and demand the city back, what else can we  do?"

"Something more than just look out for ourselves," Jack said emphatically.

Geoff shook his head. "Let us take care of ourselves, first," he said quietly. "I didn't sleep much last night. Gavin had bad dreams. We're still tired, and still trying to get our heads around the enormity of this."

"But we don't have _time_ to get our heads around it!" Jack protested. "There are people dying out there!"

"Better we think it through then go on a suicide run. You think we’re no use to anyone now, what the hell do you want us to do when we’re dead?”

“I just...” Jack tried, then gave up. He rubbed at his eyes so hard it was almost painful, trying to push away the images of scared faces, of bloodstained walls and helpless animals and terrified people that were trapped as he had been and with no idea there was anywhere safe left in San Andreas.

"Do you honestly think we don't give two shits about what's happening out there?" Geoff asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Jack blinked slowly up at him as if he’d just emerged from a dark room, and shook his head.

He knew they did, and their conversation even now was showcasing that. It just seemed incomprehensible that their immediate thoughts weren't _help others,_ but when he thought about it, it really wasn't.

They were pulling it together, focusing on surviving. Then, Geoff had said, they could focus on helping other people.

But Jack just kept seeing the other people as _him_. Because he hadn't had a safe place to escape, to recuperate, hadn't had the opportunity to _make plans_. When he thought back on it, his first two days after seeing the masses of people getting herded into the Maze Bank Arena had dragged by in a dull wave of horror, fear and confusion.

He’d talked to other survivors. He knew that they needed somewhere safe, and every second that he was up here was riddling him with guilt because _he_ was the safe one, and _he_ was the only one here that knew just how hellish it was.

How could he not go back and at least try to save some?

They needed him, needed this safety. Needed food and water and somewhere to hide, somewhere they didn’t have to spend every waking moment in fear, afraid to make a noise in case there was someone nearby.

Jack realised he’d lost himself, fallen back into his memories of the first long week. By the time he blinked himself out of it, Geoff and Gavin were gone.

He looked at the screen door banging in its frame and wondered when time had started losing meaning.


	10. progression and promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdfjhk only a few more chapters till ray is introduced! because things can't go smoothly for long, can it? 
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <3

When Jack finally stumbled outside to look for Geoff and Gavin, he found the surrounding area empty of human life. With chills running up his spine and goosebumps forming along his arms, he moved tentatively forward.

By the time he'd reached the tree line that the line of pipes went through he was wishing he'd brought his gun, for the security it offered if nothing else. He called their names, and after a moment where he heard nothing but the echo of his own call coming back at him, he'd made up his mind to get his gun.

Then, "By the waterfall!" Gavin's responding yell came through the thicket and Jack released a heavy breath of relief. "Follow the pipes!"

Jack grumbled an "I know," to himself as he did so, picking his way through the trees and into the clearing surrounding the pool at the base of the small waterfall. He took a moment to shield his eyes and squint up at it, then around, familiarising himself with the area once more.

"A waterfall." He shook his head. He couldn't believe how lucky they were to score this place. Which brought up some questions in his mind, but those seemed to pale in comparison to the ones that Geoff had unloaded on him earlier.

How to safely get to town, how to move around safely, how to approach people - and of course, if they wanted to get a grip on how long they might be here, how to get information. The little information hat Geoff had already found out was invaluable to them.

And Jack didn't want to admit it, but he had a burning desire to find out more. More about whoever was in charge. More about how, and why? How did they expect this to end?

Jack had heard the stories about those who'd been killed - people who'd hidden like he had, those who'd fought back; it was impossible to think about anybody as more than a number. When he'd tried, when he'd revisited his house and seen the splatters of blood over the wallpaper, seen the smears from the body being dragged up the hallway where they'd walked.

And he’d frozen. His mind had refused to cope, had instead reminded him that Emma was out there, and he'd been able to push it aside for the most part and refocus on his priority.

Now Emma was here and safe, with water at her side, and Jack had dreamed about the woman who'd he'd allowed to stay in his house and how her blood had stained the walls.

Her death, Jack couldn't help but think, was on his hands. Yes, she'd accidentally fired the gun. Yes, she'd been set on hiding in the house, because determining where the exact source of the gunshot had been from far away would be impossible and it made sense not to throw yourself out into the open.

Yes, Jack had fought tooth and nail to get her to leave the perceived safety of the living room, because he knew they'd check through each house until they found whoever was hiding, and whoever had the gun.

That's how he'd seen Geoff and Gavin, through the window of his living room.

But he hadn't convinced her to leave, and when he'd swapped his goal from trying to warn her from potential death to saving two men from its certainty, Jack had gotten her killed.

If he hadn't opened the door, the two men on the street would be dead, and Jack and the woman staying with him would be alive.

He hadn't realised the weight of that knowledge until just now.

He hadn't seen anyone killed with his own eyes, but he'd seen enough, and he held the responsibility of a dead woman on his hands. He wondered if, subconsciously, that was what made him so driven to save more.

"Jack?"

The quiet call of his name made Jack blink himself out of his daze. He was still standing by the edge of the plunge pool, looking at the waterfall, but now Gavin was at his side. He had one hand lifted, as if to put his hand on Jack's arm, but he'd paused halfway. When Jack looked at him, Gavin dropped his hand.

"You were all spacey for a sec there," Gavin told him, as if Jack didn't know. Then, surprisingly, he asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"Huh?" Jack was thrown. "Oh, uh, just... thinking over the last week, I guess."

"Yeah, I been meaning to ask you," Gavin started, and Jack tensed, afraid of what questions could come from that. "How do you plan to feed your dog?"

"What?"

Gavin stared at him. "Your dog. Eggy, or something."

"Emma," Jack corrected, automatically. "And what do you mean?"

"Well we don't have any dog food, and she's not exactly, you know, in optimal shape for huntin’."

Gavin had a point there. That seemed odd in itself, so Jack looked around. "Where's Geoff?" he asked. The tattooed man was nowhere in sight.

"I dunno," Gavin shrugged. "He said he wanted to take a walk, think things through, without my 'dumb ass' tagging along. He's been gone for a while, should be back soon." He didn't look bothered in the slightest. "But he did ask me to ask you about your dog."

"Emma," Jack said firmly, before he could misname her again. "And she can eat meat."

"What meat?" Gavin scoffed. "We don't currently have food for ourselves, aside from the food we left from our original trip. Which is all the gross stuff. Muesli bars, peanut butter, whatnot. We do have some baked beans, canned soup, all the really obvious stuff, but that's been in the cupboard for like, a year, 'cos we already dug in on the good stuff.”

He had a point. But as Jack acknowledged that, Geoff emerged from the woods from which Jack had come, two fishing rods in his hands, the tags on them swinging with Geoff’s momentum as he walked.

"But don't worry!" Gavin said cheerily. "Geoff's on the case."

Jack almost stumbled back when Geoff thrust one of the poles into his hands. "What the- What's this?"

Geoff raised an eyebrow. “What’s it look like? We’re catching dinner.”

 

* * *

Later that night, when dinner had been caught, prepared and cooked, they sat around the fireplace with a few of the remaining paper plates and dug in. Between himself and Geoff, they’d managed to catch six fish, a mixture of striped bass and bream, fresh from the plunge pool at the bottom of the waterfall.

Geoff assured him that they would be consistently replenished, trying to soothe Jack's guilt regardless of the fact that he knew it.

The fish would come over the waterfall, swim around in the basin for a while, and head off down the stream that was connected to it. It was simple, but Jack had still been reluctant.

When he'd noticed that, Geoff had said it was either this or hunting small land mammals. Jack had made his mind up pretty fast after that.

He couldn’t help but enjoy the fresh food on his plate, despite the small morsel of regret he held for the creature that had one been living. It came down to the fact that he hadn't eaten fresh meat in a while, let alone supplemented with a few dry, albeit still edible vegetables. In the end, he pushed those thoughts aside and allowed himself to enjoy the meal.

He let the juice run down his chin and focused on savouring every bite. It wasn’t until he noticed Gavin watching him, a look of disgust on his face, that he realised he and Geoff were the only ones eating with any degree of enthusiasm.

And Emma, who’d long since polished off the two fishes that Jack had caught and personally scaled, gutted and filleted under Geoff’s guidance.

“What?” he managed, his mouth full of food, when Gavin didn’t stop staring at him.

Gavin recoiled further away, but he only ended up moving closer to Geoff, who was licking his fingers with slurping noises.

“Geoff!” he cried, disgusted.

“Gavin,” Geoff replied. “Aw, what’s the matter, buddy? Not hungry anymore?”

Gavin looked at the fish on his plate and then at Geoff, who’d taken to slathering his fingers with saliva, and Jack, who was still tearing into his meal whole heartedly, and shook his head. “Bloody savages,” he mumbled.

In response, Geoff smacked his lips loudly. “Delicious!” he declared. He peeked at Gavin. “Well, at least Jack thinks so,” he grinned.

Jack paused to give him a thumbs up and clean some food out of his beard before resuming his meal.

Gavin gagged.

“What?” Jack finally asked, annoyed. He put his fish down and directed his attention to Gavin.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s a little bitch when it comes to watching people eat,” Geoff intervened, answering for him before Gavin could open his big mouth and make things worse for himself. “Thinks it’s gross, or something.”

“It is gross!” Gavin argued. He pushed the remainder of his meal towards Geoff. “You all chew so loudly, and food keeps getting caught in your beard, Jack, and Geoff's gettin' slobber everywhere," he paused to gag again, “I don’t understand why you can’t eat like regular people!”

“Statistically speaking, you’re the only one who has a problem with how we eat,” Jack pointed out, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “That makes us the regular people.”

“And you the whiny bitch,” Geoff tacked on happily. “I mean, if you’d rather have eaten those canned beans from like, a year ago, I’m sure they wouldn’t be too cold and slimy.”

He let out a cackle when Gavin went green and turned to Jack.

“So, I know we fed you yesterday, but what, you been starving this whole time?” he asked. “I don’t blame you,” he said, when the burly man frowned at him, “I was starving too. Hadn't eaten since like... morning before.”

He rubbed his stomach dramatically.

“How terrible for you,” Jack said dryly, eyeing the motion. “All those people back in Los Santos probably haven’t eaten for twice as long as that.”

Silence met his statement.

“Geez. Downer, much,” Gavin commented eventually. “Who pissed in your eggs this morning?”

Jack frowned at him, but before he could say anything Geoff was addressing him.

“Dude. Jack, buddy,” he was saying. “For the love of god, loosen up a bit. I know it’s hard to think about, but just try your best to push out anything besides the good vibes.”

It sounded like he had plenty of practice at it.

“We can’t help anybody out there right now,” he continued, meeting Jack’s eyes for emphasis. “And if we don’t get some good sleep, fill our stomachs, and relax a bit, we’re going to go insane. It’s for the best. We can’t help anyone if we can’t help ourselves first.”

“Amen to that,” Gavin said, and raised his abandoned plate. “Recuperation!”

Geoff clunked their plates together and offered his to Jack, raising an eyebrow.

Jack put his plate on the floor and shook his head, but surprisingly, he found himself biting back a smile. He knew Geoff saw it, because he put his plate down with a laugh and no hard feelings, instead choosing to turn to Gavin and continue their conversation.

Jack couldn’t deny that Geoff was right. If he focused, if he let himself, he could let his worries slide away. And it felt so nice just to relax, to sit around a warm fire with good food and act like everything was fine.

Act like these people were his friends, nothing else, and they were up here for a good time. Like there was nothing wrong in the world, and they weren’t trapped up here, and San Andreas wasn’t under siege, and there wasn’t anybody to help them.

Push it all out. Breathe.

And he did.

He found himself laughing at whatever Geoff was saying, taking his cue from Gavin’s spluttered laugh even though he hadn’t really registered the words themselves, simply because it felt good to allow himself to.

He felt the tension melt away as the night wore on, and by the time Geoff and Gavin had headed off to bed and Jack was lying on the rug in front of the dwindling fire, he was relaxed enough to slide into a dreamless sleep.


	11. weight off your chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let it be known that i love all of you, especially the ones who can take the time to comment, because it warms my cold, cold soul

If Geoff and Gavin were good at anything, it was _recuperating._

The day they’d spent after that was filled with laughter, banter, and relaxation under the guise of “We’re recovering, Jack!”

While Jack enjoyed the slow paced, easy going nature that contrasted with the fast, fear filled, exhausting days of hiding in Los Santos, he couldn’t shake off the niggling guilt inside him.

It built as time passed by, slowly becoming more and more noticeable, and it wasn't long before Jack wasn't enjoying the relaxation so much anymore.

It was only when he was being actively productive that he was able to focus and rid himself of any negative feelings. This was something that Geoff seemed to pick up on, because the next few days found Jack loaded with chores like cooking, fishing, covering up the pipes that connected the cabin to the small pool so they weren’t so vulnerable, sorting their food, and even actual cleaning.

And it worked, to an extent. But he was constantly reminded that they were being selfish and useless, hiding away up here, and he couldn’t help but dwell on it every time he came across them wasting time.

By the end of the third day, their easy banter was really getting on Jack’s nerves. It wasn’t until Gavin had suggested they go for a swim in the plunge pool that Jack finally snapped.

“Is it that easy?” he asked, stopping in his tracks. Geoff and Gavin stopped a moment later, sharing a look between them. “You can just ignore the fact that there might be people dying out there while you’re swimming and laughing and having a great old time.”

“Oh, Jesus, here we go.”

Gavin rolled his eyes up to the sky.

“No, don’t give me that. I’ve been patient these past few days, letting all this wasted time slide, but I’ve had it up to here. Every day that passes could mean another day of horror for the people out there.”

“You’ve been productive, sorta,” Gavin argued, completely ignoring the point.

That made Jack brim with rage. “I’m the _only_ one that’s been productive. You seem to be perfectly fine doing absolutely _nothing_ useful, but not me. So tell me this, Gavin, because I don’t know how you can just sit here and pretend like nothing is going on out there.”

“Out there,” Geoff repeated, talking over Gavin. “Out there. You keep saying _out there_ , and that’s exactly right! It’s _out there_ , and we’re in _here_ , and that’s how we’d like to keep it.”

“Sorry we don’t feel the need to taint every second with other people’s misery,” Gavin tacked on.

“But how can you turn a blind eye to it? _And_ that’s assuming that, by your argument, it hasn’t blown over by now, or it hasn’t ended.”

“Well then why are you worrying?” Geoff asked.

“Because I want to go _home_.”

Neither of them pointed out that Jack’s home had been ruined, but it quickly became evident that they didn’t need to. Jack looked off to the side and fell quiet.

“Tell you what,” Geoff started, because Jack had a point, “You’re right. We should go back and see what’s going on down there. See if anything has changed.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Gavin protested.

“But look what happened in one night. New Years Eve,” he clarified, when Gavin looked confused. “Jack’s right. It’s time we went down there and had another look. We’ve recuperated long enough.”

 _“Recuperated,_ ” Jack repeated in a mutter.

“Well what’s your plan, then?” Gavin asked. “The when, the where, all that.”

Geoff held up one plan before Jack could respond, scratching at his chin as he spoke.

“Maybe this is best sorted out over dinner.”

He wasn't sure whether it was hope that kindled in his chest, but it was something, and he knew it was because of Geoff.

* * *

 

Two hours later, and Jack was waiting for one of them to bring it up.

They were gathered around the fireplace, the odd tradition they’d already formed in the few days they’d been banded together, eating their respective meals.

Geoff had decided he was tired of fish and was willing to try heating one of the old cans of soup. The label claimed _winter vegetable_ and Jack couldn’t deny that the smell when Geoff opened it was heavenly.

Gavin gnawed sullenly on his fish, already tired of the taste but unwilling to risk his tastebuds with canned food. Jack wondered if that mindset was something that was going to have to change, just as his own preference for meatless foods had, or if their trip back would prove anything different.

There was an odd sort of hope in the air. The last few days had proven beneficial to their spirits, despite Jack’s internal bitterness and unending worry, because the constant banter Geoff and Gavin had kept up had created an illusion of everything being okay.

Nothing they were doing screamed _pure survival -_ things that they would only be doing in a war scenario. They caught fish and ate stored food but that was the extent of their actions reflecting their scenario.

Only Jack seemed to be focused on things outside their bubble.

Although he’d noticed a change in Geoff that afternoon - not quite different, but more obvious, like he’d been worrying as much as Jack had but been hiding it better.

When Geoff made Gavin nearly drop his fish with laughter, Jack had to wonder if maybe it was for Gavin’s sake. When he thought about it, it seemed like whenever he caught Geoff alone, there had been a look in the man’s eye that was different to when Gavin was around.

The longer he watched, and the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he was right. That in an odd, sweet way, contrary to their established interactions, Geoff was trying to protect him, distract him from the reality that may still be surrounding them.

He thought back to how Gavin had looked when he was in shock, and he realised he understood why.

He was brought back into reality when Geoff threw a chunk of Gavin’s fish at him.

“You’ve got a real knack for zoning out,” he told him, through a mouthful of food. “Me and Gavin decided we’re gunna start taking bets. Like, how many times you zone out a day, or a week, or something. Really, it’s incredible.”

When Jack thought about it, they were right. He did get lost in his thoughts a lot. He could see them watching him, so he was quick to speak before they could assume he was doing it again.

“Well what’s our plan?” he asked, getting straight down to business.

“Sometimes I question if Jack listens to a word we say,” Gavin wondered aloud.

Geoff laughed. “To me, buddy, but maybe not you,” he told him, before he directed his words to Jack. “So. Uh, plan wise. Anybody got any good ideas?”

“Are we going to take this seriously?” Jack asked, looking between them. He saw the glance Geoff shot at Gavin, and his suspicions were raised again.

"I'm being serious," Geoff said, shrugging. "I just didn't think of a plan."

Gavin scoffed. "Useless dope, aren't you?"

Geoff shoved his shoulder. "Says you."

 _"Take it seriously,_ " Jack reiterated.

He went ignored, and he watched the two men interact for a moment before he came to a decision.

He got up, rising steadily and suddenly and with grace, and moved towards the counter. Their conversation broke off as they started after him, but he paid them no heed as he picked the gun up and carried it back to them, taking his seat once more.

Gavin didn’t look bothered, but Geoff was eyeing the gun warily. After a moment, he set his plate down on the floor.

“You don’t know how to use a gun, do you, Gavin?” Jack asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He’d already been told the answer, but Gavin’s shake of the head confirmed it anyway.

“No, he doesn’t,” Geoff said firmly, cutting in.

“I wonder what you’re gunna do if something happens down there,” Jack said, as if he was musing aloud. “Especially since there’s only one gun. I’m sure Geoff can defend himself, and I’ll have my handgun, but Gavin...” he trailed off, and watched as Geoff’s face took on a stormy expression.

“He’ll stick with me.”

There was no room for argument.

“Well yeah, of course,” Jack agreed, turning the gun over in his hands.

By now, Geoff had realised that Jack had something to prove.

“What’s your point?” he demanded stiffly. Gavin was looking between them, aware something deeper was going on that involved him but clueless as to what.

“My point is that we're going to be vulnerable out there.”

Geoff frowned. “Yeah,” he agreed slowly, unsure what Jack wanted from him.

“Which means we need a proper plan. Start taking it seriously. No running off, no stupid choices, no acting like idiots, no being ignorant. Like I said, take it seriously.”

Gavin looked worried, and Jack knew that’s what Geoff was focusing on, his eyes drawn to the worried chewing of his lips.

“That’s assuming it’s not okay by now...” Geoff started, still looking at Gavin, and if there had been any doubt left in Jack's mind, it would be gone.

Geoff was trying to shield him.

He was fine keeping them up here because that meant Gavin was safe, and he was fine entertaining him because that meant Gavin wasn’t focusing on the horrors that were more than likely still waging on around them.

Jack understood. Whether he admitted it or not, he had a big heart, and he hated people hurting. But Geoff was focusing on the smaller picture, while Jack was focusing on the big one.

Maybe that was because Geoff’s picture revolved around Gavin. He could see it from just watching them. How much Gavin meant to the older man, how much he cared for him, the lengths he would go to for him - it was all obvious, undeniably so, and Jack understood.

But Jack had also spent a week out there, in the world Geoff was trying to shield Gavin from.

He wasn’t prepared to let them get themselves killed because of sheer stupidity, or in a misguided sense of protection.

Without realising, he shook his head. He thought Geoff would be better than that - he’d been in the army, and surely that was worth _something._

"Jack?" Geoff prompted, uncrossing his arms.

Jack made up his mind. He lifted his gun and pointed it at Gavin.

Everyone was suddenly very still.

Geoff’s eyes were trained on the safety, which Jack had his thumb hovering over. He knew that Jack could thumb it back and get a shot off before he could cross the space between the two and wrestle it off him, but that didn’t mean he took his eyes off it.

“What if this happens when we’re down there? What if someone points a gun at Gavin, or you, or me? You can’t fight bullets, Geoff.”

“What the _fuck_ is this meant to prove,” Geoff asked, voice flat and angry and colder than Jack had ever heard.

It was unnecessary, because Jack was lowering the gun, the safety still on and untouched. For peace of mind, he placed it on the floor between them.

“That _just in case_ , we need to be prepared. Please, take this seriously. Laugh at me all you want if we get back and everything is returning to normal and it's all sunshine. Hell, I’d honestly love that right now.”

Geoff’s lips were pressed into a thin, cold line.

“But just until then, stop fucking around.”

There was a long, tense pause.

Gavin was still looking at the gun on the floor like he couldn’t believe he’d had it pointed at him, and Geoff was staring at Jack, re-evaluating him, trying to figure out if he was actually a threat.

Eventually, logic won out, and a small, albeit grudging module of respect was given to Jack for having the balls to pull that off.

“Fine,” he said, evenly. “But don’t _ever f_ ucking pull a gun on us again.”

“I promise,” Jack said, holding his hands up. He’d made his point, and he hadn’t enjoyed a moment of it.

It had left him filled with flutters of unease, knowing that he'd directly challenged Geoff's immediate trust of him, and even knowing it was okay, they were only just beginning to fade. He just wished he had something soothing to do with his hands aside from wring them.

Geoff sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair, and Gavin took his cue from him, evidently unsure what to do after having a gun pulled on him and then put down again seconds later.

Geoff shook his head. 

“I swear,” he said to Jack, “if it all turns out to be over and everything is fine down there, and you just pulled a gun on my friend, I’m gunna be pissed.”

“I will humbly apologise,” Jack said, immediately, voice flat enough that Geoff couldn’t tell whether he was joking.

He eyed him, but Jack steadfastly avoided his gaze.

“Whatever.” Geoff turned to Gavin. “You okay?”

“ _No_ , I’m not bloody okay,” Gavin said, looking affronted.

Geoff nodded, satisfied that he was alright, if not a bit shaken.

"I mean it,” he warned Jack, and didn’t need to elaborate any further.

He looked around the small room and clasped his hands, and his eyes eventually settled on Jack. They shone with something Jack couldn't quite put a name to at that moment, but he later realised was understanding.

"Alright. We've got a plan to create, lives to save. Let's get down to it.”

And just like that, Jack could breathe again.


	12. nothing but bad ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there's any still sticking around for this, enjoy! <3
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <3

Lying flat in the underbrush on the edge of the tree line, Jack, Geoff, and Gavin were holding their breath. Geoff was the only one who didn’t have his face pressed to the dirt.

He was on his elbows, peering through gaps in the plants that he was using to hide behind, craning his neck to get a decent view of the street. There was a small rustling at his side, and Jack joined him, a nervous breath escaping him in an exhale that seemed loud compared to the quiet that had descended over them.

They watched, and they didn’t like what they saw.

Regardless of the fact that none of them had outright said it with any degree of weight, they’d all held hope - hoped that they’d come back to a town busy with picking up the pieces, even at this time of night. Hoped they’d return to normalcy, to how it had been, or at least somewhat close, not the third patrol that night.

Hoped for something, anything better than what they were faced with. Instead they stared out, shivering, to the sight of more convoys, military jeeps with soldiers in the back.

But whatever they’d dared to hope, it didn’t matter. They were faced once more with the unavoidable reality that everything was still very wrong, and with it came a sinking feeling of helplessness that clawed through them and settled heavily on their hearts. There was nothing they could do as headlights illuminated the road ahead and the air was filled with the shouting of soldiers.

There wasn’t fear, as such, not the overwhelming, throat tightening sensation of being scared – they were far enough away, their pale faces hidden in the foliage. But it was almost crushing - unnerving, beyond _disheartening_ to see that against their hopes, it didn't look like the situation had changed.

If anything, it looked like it was getting worse.

They'd been lying in the scratchy underbrush for over half an hour, and in that time they'd seen more patrols than they wished existed. They didn’t know who they were, or barely even why they were here, but those thoughts escaped them, overshadowed by the fact that they were here at all, passing through the streets of Los Santos as if they owned them.

And maybe, now, they did.

The patrol had passed, but they continued staring at the street in silence, even though now all they looked at now was darkness. There was barely any moonlight, and what did manage to shine through the thick clouds was weak and insufficient.  At some point, the power to the outskirts of the city had been cut.

Streetlights lined the sides of the road, but none of them shone, and the lack of light only added to the nervous atmosphere that was pressing on them like a storm, tension picking up and whirling around them. Unavoidable. Inescapable.

"Do you reckon they cut the power?" Gavin asked, voice quiet despite that the likelihood of anyone else hearing him was low. It made him feel slightly safer, even though nothing could take away the aching vulnerability that had draped heavily over all of them.

"Of course they did, dumbass," Geoff hissed. "It was only working the closer to Downtown we got. It was like this last time, remember." His skin prickled and itched with unease, and even though the soldiers were gone for now, more would soon come.

"Do you think maybe it's better further in?" Gavin offered weakly.

"No," Geoff said, struggling to keep his voice even. He grit his teeth and blew out a breath when Gavin spoke up again next to him.

“Why not?” Gavin pressed.

Geoff pressed his fist into the dirt. "If I was right, which I'm sure I fucking am, it can only go one of two ways, and by the looks of it, I don't think it's exactly gunna be a party in Downtown Los Santos. Unless, y'know, they're parading the hostages and the dead around on sticks held by the fucking _foreign militia_ still roaming our streets."

"Jesus, Geoff." Jack looked shocked, and he withdrew a little, the underbrush around him rustling as he shifted to put some distance between them.

Geoff regretted his words immediately, regretted the fact that he knew Jack had been there when it had all kicked off and had seen the brunt of it firsthand, and he felt a twist of guilt in his stomach at Jack’s painfully transparent reaction.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but Jack just stared at him, eyes tighter and unforgiving.

He blew out an angry breath. "This was a waste of time. I don't know what we expected to see, or do, but it's pretty fucking clear that lying here is getting us nowhere."

"Do we just go back up to the cabin then?” Gavin questioned. "Because that makes the drive down here a waste. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m more than happy to drive back now, and if you want to do that, I’ll oblige.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Jack murmured, and Gavin turned on him.

"Alright, then what's your plan? Should we just go house to house looking for survivors, like you wanted? Kidnap a soldier, get some answers out of ‘em? Because that's more goddamn likely than anything else you maniacs want to do."

"How'd you do it last time?" Jack demanded.

“Blind luck!”

“That’s so helpful.”

Jack’s attitude was wearing on Geoff’s nerves. It wasn’t helping. But with that realisation came the knowledge that he was guilty of the same. The tension was wearing their camaraderie thin, leaving them strung out and snappy, and the last thing any of them needed was to be was at each other’s throats.

Especially when it was just the three of them, facing off against unknown numbers of armed and presumably trained soldiers.

That was a melancholy thought, and Geoff didn’t like it. He didn’t like that around him, voices were being raised, the argument slowly getting louder, as if it was more important to cut each other down rather than sort it out and work together.

"You hear how loud they were shouting?" Gavin was saying pointedly, gesturing to the street the latest patrol had disappeared down. "Try being in the front gardens next to it. All we did was hear names, a little bit of context, and we pieced the rest together ourselves."

"Oh, that's reassuring," Jack muttered.

"Right, and you found out so much when you were hiding for a week." Jack couldn't see him properly, his shitty eyes not helped by the darkness, but he was sure that Gavin was sneering at him.

"I was trying to survive!" he protested.

Gavin scoffed, but before he could reply, Geoff drew their attention by climbing to his feet.

"What are you doing?" Jack started to stand, then stopped, keeping to a low crouch. He gestured for Gavin to stay down, and that gave Geoff a little bit of hope, because even a protective display as small as that was enough to let him know that things were still manageable.

He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice low, and his tone even and calm. "Lying here arguing isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to get somewhere safe, consider this information, and think things through.”

He waited, and even though it looked like Jack was going to point out that he’d been just as bad only moments ago, he didn’t.

He seemed to understand what Geoff had realised, because he visibly un-tensed a little, forcing some of the stiffness out of his hunched shoulders. He darted a look at Gavin, who was still waiting impatiently on Geoff, but didn’t offer any sort of apology.

That was fine. As long as the arguing had stopped for now, Geoff could work with it.

“Let’s think about this rationally,” he reminded them, almost gently.

Jack nodded, slowly, then with more conviction. "Right," he mumbled, getting to his feet. It was a relief stretching his cramped legs out.

Silhouetted somewhat by the weak moonlight filtering in through the trees, they could see Gavin rub his arms as he stood. Geoff had the foresight to throw a jacket at him before they left, so at least he wouldn't have to see Gavin shivering all night, but he knew it wasn’t enough to stop the cold from the ground seeping through the thin material.

He shrugged his own jacket off and held it out to Gavin, almost as a peace offering. A second jacket would help.

Gavin looked at him, then shook his head. He’d warm up when they started walking, now that he wasn’t pressed against the cold ground, and Geoff seemed to realise it because he nodded, and started off back towards the bike path without another word.

Although he’d managed to ease the tension for the time being, he could still feel it in the atmosphere, in the way Gavin was following him so closely that he was almost glued to his back, in the way Jack kept cursing quietly every time a twig snapped or a badly placed footstep crunched loudly on the leaves underfoot.

They were abnormally quiet, as the situation needed them to be. All of their attention was focused on making their way back and listening hard to the sounds of the forest around them for any foreign noises that weren’t their own.

But it was hard. Every loud noise was startling, suspicious, feeding the seeds of fear in their stomachs that told them _watch out_ , that whispered _those weren’t your footsteps,_ that cried _it’s dangerous, too dangerous, you’re going to get yourself killed._

_You’re going to get everyone else killed. This was bad idea._

It only took a few minutes of that before Geoff was gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pressure of his own fear that was scraping away at his rational thought. The strain was wearing at him and at his patience, as he knew it must be doing for everyone else. They couldn’t keep in such a sustained position of alertness and fear for so long without it draining too much out of them.

Jack was breathing heavily, his exhales probably the loudest noise in the night. If Geoff would bet money on anything, it would be on the guess that Jack was trying to alleviate the heavy pressure on his own chest. Breathing deeper could help, but by the sounds of it Jack was breathing too fast for it to work.

He wasn’t hyperventilating, and Geoff didn’t think he was at risk of getting short of breath yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be effective in making him feel better. Give it long enough, and he’d start feeling dizzy.

It wasn’t just him Geoff was worried about. When they’d made it about halfway back from where they’d crept - towards a patch of trees close to a long stretch of street they could see down, Gavin had given up on sticking close and just buried a hand in the back of Geoff's jacket.

He hadn't said a word, and Geoff hadn't either. He'd understood.

He understood that it was too draining, and they felt hopeless, and the whole journey out had been a bad idea. They couldn’t do anything, but doing nothing felt wrong.

But that was the same hopeless attitude talking that he was trying to shake off. So he let another minute pass, and when he felt that they were safe enough, close to the bike track, the car - to safety, as much as they could get out here, he acted.

Jack was trudging along, tense and fearful, his shoulders aching with the worry coursing through him, when he got smacked in the face with a tree branch. He stumbled back, choking on an exclamation and his hand going to his face to check that his glasses were intact, and noticed Geoff’s grinning face peering back at him.

"What the fuck-" he started to say, but he didn't need to, because suddenly Gavin tripped over and landed on the ground with a heavy thump.

Geoff started snickering, and Jack knew Gavin didn't fall - Geoff tripped him.

Jack was stunned. They were so vulnerable, in so much danger, near streets that had occasional patrols by armed soldiers bordering on a city that was under siege, and Geoff was playing pranks?

"What--" he started, but from the darkness, against all expectations, he heard Gavin trying not to laugh and heard Geoff's low chuckles. He couldn't find any words to express his sheer disbelief until they'd continued walking again and the silence was pressing in once more.

Then he was distracted, allowing all the worrying and apprehensive information to seep into the forefront of his mind. It took root quickly, and within moments he was weighed down with tension and misery, and it was only when he distantly reflected on that it become clear why Geoff had done that.

It was a distraction.

It wasn't just them being idiots, but them actually making an effort to stop the tension overwhelming them, to allow them to continue on without drowning in the weight of emotions.

As if to prove his point, Geoff tripped Gavin again when they made it to the car.

Although Gavin giggled, relieved for the distraction, when he climbed to his feet it was with a hiss, and he rolled back his jumper sleeve to extract a piece of rock from his skin. "Ow," he whined mournfully, and Geoff tilted his arm this way and that to examine it under the practically nonexistent moonlight.

"You're fine," Geoff whispered, and hit him on the back as he moved past to take his seat.

"Hurts, Geoffers," Gavin whined quietly, but he rolled his sleeve and followed.

Jack fell in behind him, warily, but nobody tried to hit him with any more foliage, and soon Gavin was climbing into the backseat and Jack was getting in the front. They were idiots, but they had the right thought in mind, because Gavin was actually smiling. Even Geoff was still chuckling when he started the car up, but he stopped almost immediately.

"What?" Jack asked, in the sudden silence.

In response, Geoff let out a loud curse.

In the back seat, Gavin startled, leaning forward into the gap between the seats with concern on his face at the sudden change in atmosphere. "What?" he echoed.

Geoff thumped his fist on the dashboard, once, twice, then gripped the wheel tight. Gavin looked frightened, somewhat paler than he'd been seconds ago, and he was staring at Geoff with wide eyes.

Jack understood. Geoff hadn't lost his cool like this the entire time. He looked around frantically, trying to determine what could provoke such a reaction, such a sudden shift from the atmosphere they'd forged.

"Geoff?" he prompted, voice slow and fearful.

Geoff shook his head, and a moment later his warbling voice filled the air. "We didn't think about gas."

In the back, Gavin fell back in his seat, looking relieved, before the direness of that sunk in and his mouth dropped open to form a small “o”.

Jack thought that over. "Do we have enough to get back?" he asked, voice steady despite his whirling thoughts, but he already knew the answer.

Geoff's shake of the head was still enough to make Jack's stomach drop like it was full of lead.

"Then-- how are we going to get back?" he asked. "How do we get back up to the cabin? What are we meant to do?" His mind was racing, fearful possibilities rising to the surface and popping into his conscious like bubbles filled with poison.

"Just--" Geoff put his hands up to cut Jack off. "Just shut up for a second."

Oddly enough, Jack wasn't offended when he kept himself quiet. He could see the air of tension that Geoff had regained, and his shoulders were stiff as he hunched over the wheel, the moonlight coming through the windshield creating a pale hue on his tattooed skin.

"We could get halfway there, maybe," he estimated quietly. "And we could try pushing it the rest of the way... but it'd take hours. Way too fucking long, and we'd be exhausted and thirsty... the walk itself takes hours, but pushing a car?" He shook his head. "Forget that, it was a dumb idea."

"We could steal a car," Gavin suggested. "There's bound to be a few lyin' around with the keys still in."

"Finding one with keys in the ignition, unlocked, batteries not drained, with the amount of soldiers around?" Jack shook his head. "That's suicidal."

"Well what's your idea then?" Gavin shot at him. "At least I'm trying."

Jack didn't respond to that, and Geoff was still quiet, so they quickly lapsed into silence. Gavin drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on it, his eyes wide, and the silence pressed heavily in. Time seemed to drag.

Several minutes passed and Jack started feeling antsy. Sweat prickled in his hairline and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the impatience and hopelessness beginning to weigh him down.

He leaned over to get a better look at the gas metre. "Maybe we could, uh, syphon gas?" he tried. He could practically sense Gavin's sneer.

Geoff glanced at him, then shook his head. "With what? We don't have any tubes. Or anything to pour it into to carry it, unless we drove the car down. And that still raises the problem of how to get to a car that has the same fuel type, syphon it, and get away without being caught."

Jack slumped, weary. Geoff had cut him straight down, but with very valid points.

Gavin, on the other hand, threw his hands up. "Well I don't see many other options. Steal a car or syphon. That's it. Unless you want to drive down to a bloody gas station and fill up. "

"Don't be an idiot," Jack sighed.

For a second, his mind flicked over his options; whether staying would be beneficial, or whether sneaking out and trying to find another place to hold up was possible.

But he was loyal, even if it might not seem it, and despite that the relationship he'd formed with the two men in the car with him was strained at best, he had no doubt that he would stand by them.

Geoff was saying something, waving his hands around with tired eyes narrowed in focus, but beyond that, Jack heard Gavin's small "What if..." muttered from behind him.

Jack twisted in his seat. "What if what?" he asked, giving Gavin his full attention.

Gavin blinked at him, clearly not expecting to be heard, but when Geoff unbuckled to turn so he could properly see him he looked unnerved. "Nothing, I just..." he trailed off. “I mean, if we don't want to go into the city, or even into Murrieta, we could try sneaking to the gas station on the outskirts of East Vinewood. Pick up some gas cans, fill up, and leave."

There was a beat of silence until Jack and Geoff spoke at once, loud voices filling the air as they spoke in tandem.

_"That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard."_

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later they were driving along the highway.

In the passenger seat, hands gripping to the edge of the seat so tightly his knuckles were white, Jack was furious. "I thought we agreed no sneaking out without a proper, soundproof plan," he hissed, his throat so tight with fear the words came out sounding strangled. "Thinking things through? Isn't that what we agreed on?"

He received no response, and he was severely starting to regret his choices. Fuck sticking around with them - if they wanted to get themselves killed, that was their business. They had no right to drag him along on a goddamn suicide mission, and he said as much.

"You're welcome to get out of the car anytime," Geoff responded distractedly, craning his neck to glance through the top of the windshield to the sky above. He kept his foot on the gas and they crept along.

Aside from the low rumble of their engine, the car drove silently along the highway. Jack stopped clenching the seat and started wringing his hands instead. From what he could see by his occasional glances in the rear view mirror, Gavin wasn't listening, instead kneeling on the seat to stare out the back window, straining to see any sign of life.

They quickly lapsed into silence, the fear and unease mingling to thicken the atmosphere of dark tension that had been shadowing them all night.

Before long, it seemed like any extra noise would be the final straw, and from somewhere, one of the side roads they passed, a car would come flying out at them, guns pointed from the windows, blurs of foreign faces and the flash of light from the end of a gun barrel. Or worse, the fucking _tank._

Geoff shuddered. Facing off against a tank was the last thing on his list today. Well, apart from getting shot. Or getting someone else shot.

Nervously, he glanced in the rear-view mirror, but all he saw was the back of Gavin's head.

Maybe Jack was right. This was a bad idea.

But what other choice did they have? They could look for cars to syphon fuel out of, or even to steal - but the roads that Geoff knew well enough to walk along were the ones around Murrieta Heights, where the core of the patrols seemed to be. And if they didn't try the streets there, then they had two options: up or down. _Down_ , further towards East Los Santos, towards the heart of the city, towards the International Airport where this all seemed to start.

Geoff would put money on _up_ being the safer option. In fact, he was putting more than money. He was putting their lives.

He was hoping that by some miracle they ran into no patrols and they got far enough that even if they couldn't get to a gas station, they could find somewhere to hole up, at least until they made a better plan.

But he was too afraid to turn back now. He regretted coming down here at all. Their desire for information and to see if anything had changed seemed petty and small in comparison to their guaranteed safety.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, blowing it out in a big breath of air, and next to him, Jack flinched.

"Don't do that," Jack muttered, and Geoff had the urge to laugh.

Instead he kept his mouth shut and focused on the road ahead. Driving without any headlights was difficult, although not as difficult as trying to manoeuvre through the forest track leading to the cabin without them, but it was enough to keep his attention focused.

He left the looking around to Jack and Gavin, assuming that they'd alert him if anything came up, but the minutes dragged by in silence as the fuel metre dropped lower and they drove further along the dark road.

"Geoff," Gavin whispered urgently, minutes later, and Geoff almost jerked the wheel in surprise. By some stroke of luck, he didn't and he managed to turn his head far enough to indicate he was listening while keeping his eyes on the road.

"That's it, Geoff," Gavin said, his voice still in a low whisper. "You just drove past it."

Without a word, or even a glance around, Geoff turned the car around and drove back to the store. Gavin let out a small squeak as he was knocked against the side door, and Geoff wanted to tell him off for not wearing a seatbelt when he realised he wasn't wearing his.

In fact, Jack was the only one who'd had enough foresight to clip himself in. It was interesting how your priorities changed in certain situations. Putting your seatbelt on didn't seem too important when you were worried about getting shot.

"Geoff--" Gavin started again, but Geoff had already swerved to avoid the car he'd nearly driven into while he'd been thinking. It was parked in one of the designated parking spaces, so with a shared look and no words, Jack got out and tried to look through the window of the car while Geoff parked between two others in a poor attempt at gaining extra cover.

He and Gavin got out at the same time, unspoken relief on both their faces at the fact that they were standing on solid ground in the silent night, nobody but themselves and Jack in sight.

"Not so dumb a plan now, huh." Even though Gavin had whispered it, his voice seemed to carry in the quiet night air, and Geoff was putting a finger up to his lips to hush him when Jack approached them, shaking his head.

"I can't see into any of them, and I'm afraid to try the doors."

They didn't ask why. Setting off an alarm would be as effective as throwing themselves off the Maze Bank Tower.

In unison, they turned to face the store front of the gas station. It was dark, as all the things they'd passed this far out had been, and no sign of movement could be seen. The LED sign at the front was understandably unlit, but Gavin couldn't help but think it looked eerie.

The lack of life out here was certainly preferable to the alternative, though.

He turned to Geoff. "Will the pumps work?" he asked, lifting a hand towards the gas pumps sticking out of the ground.

They huddled in a small triangle, and it suddenly felt colder than it had before.

"Probably not." Geoff shook his head. "Unless they've got a backup generator."

"Or a manual option," Jack agreed. "Unlikely."

Gavin looked nervously at the gas pump. "Will anythin' happen if we try it?" he asked.

Geoff hesitated, so Jack broke in. "I think we should try the cars first," he said. "Not stealing them - syphoning."

"What if it's the wrong fuel?"

"We'll try and see what they take," Jack answered. "Even if it knocks, it should be enough to get us out of here."

They glanced around, suddenly reminded how vulnerable they were.

"We'd have to jimmy their gas covers," Geoff whispered. He led them to the side, so they were hidden between two of the cars, and crouched there. Gavin and Jack followed suit.

Jack cursed quietly. "How do you plan to do that? And if we can, what if they need a key? You know, locked gas covers, preventing exactly this kind of thing. Jesus Christ, I knew this was a bad idea."

Geoff paused in thought. "We need to look for a screwdriver," he said slowly. "A flathead."

"Where are we going to get a screwdriver?" Jack asked.

"There's gotta be something. Wait, I'll check the car." Geoff made a vague stay here gesture with his hands and ducked towards his car, gently popping the trunk open and rummaging around inside.

Jack sighed and started towards the gas pumps, hoping against hope that he'd see a way for them to work. Even if there was one, he doubted he'd see it, because the clouds had covered up the moon about half an hour ago and there hadn't been moonlight ever since.

When Jack headed off in the direction of the gas pumps, Gavin took a look at Geoff, still bent over rummaging in their boot, then back at Jack, and stood. He wandered towards the glass doors of the gas station and peered through them, practically pressing his face up against the glass, but to no avail.

He harrumphed quietly and wedged his fingers in the small crack created between the closed doors, wriggling and pushing until he felt some give. He startled in surprise and jerked forward, banging his forehead on the glass.

There was a long moment where he froze, waiting to hear any alarms, but when nothing happened he swallowed and hesitantly, driven by some instinct, continued to prise. The doors slid open easily, and Gavin rubbed his forehead as he glanced back at Geoff and Jack, still paying no attention to him, and stepped inside.

"Blimey," he whispered, squinting at the racks of food and miscellaneous supplies that remained untouched. "Goldmine. Geoff'll love this."

He ventured in a little farther before he decided he'd had enough and turned to leave, snatching a candy bar off the shelf as he went.

He made it two steps before there was a gun pointed at his forehead.


	13. a lot can happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretends there wasn't like 4 months between updates  
> (i'm so sorry and thank you to everyone who commented and spurred me back into writing this fic)
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

Gavin felt his world shudder to a halt.

"Oh, Christ," he managed, freezing, his entire body locking up in terror. He was suddenly too scared to even shake, his entire body straining with sudden tension that left an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder.

"Don't move," the man hissed at him, taking a small step forward and jerking the gun meaningfully.

He whimpered, then swallowed it down.

“ _Please don't shoot me_ ," he heard someone say, and it registered seconds later as his own voice, even though his tongue weighed a million tonnes and the mere thought of even calling out to Geoff was beyond his abilities.

His throat was too dry to swallow, too tight, and suddenly he was shivering violently.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. "Wait, fuck that, I don't _care._ Do you have any weapons?"

Gavin shook his head, and realised too late that it might be too dark to see. But it didn't matter, because there was a small grunt of acknowledgement before the man waved the gun to the side and tilted his head meaningfully.

Gavin was still frozen. Thoughts raced through his brain faster than he could register them, and he couldn’t think straight enough to comprehend what those movements were meant to mean.

"Oh, my god."

Finally, the man lowered the gun. Exasperated, but not firing.

"Get out before I shoot you, and don't try anything stupid."

Hesitantly, Gavin nodded, and they stood there in silence for a long moment.

"Get _out_ ," the man said again, impatient, a strained tone to his voice that didn’t click with Gavin as _nervous_. All he registered was the urgency, and he acted on it.

A sudden rush of adrenaline filled him with energy, and he took several quick steps backwards, aching to get away as fast as possible, to get Geoff and Jack and get _out_ , but his feet moved too quickly under him and he lost his footing immediately.

He fell onto a display of canned food and sent it crashing to the floor.

"Oh," he whispered, wondering if this was going to get him shot.

The man swore, flat and as numbingly empty as Gavin felt, right as the call of Gavin’s name filled the air.

“Geoff,” Gavin mouthed, but before he could call out to him and tell him not to come in Geoff was skidding inside, forcing his way through the small gap in the doors as he tried to see into the shop, Gavin's name coming off his lips once more.

Gavin and the man with the gun were both standing stock still, nearly impossible to see them in the darkness with unadjusted eyes, but the cans rolling around them were quick to draw Geoff’s attention. Geoff looked at Gavin, then at the man behind him, and scooped up a can. A second later it was flying through the air, aimed right at the intruder, and the man didn’t have time to react before it thunked him in the chest.

"Ow!" he hissed, and ducked another can thrown his way. " _Ah_ , what the fuck—“

"Get away from him, Gavin!" Geoff ordered, the inflections in his voice giving away his emotion as he sent more cans hurtling through the air.

It spurred Gavin into movement and he scrambled away, hands over his head and ducking down, expecting the worst, but he reached the relative safety of a shelf and ducked behind it unharmed. Instead of gunfire, the sound of the man’s cursing filled the air as he was forced backwards under Geoff’s attack.

“Stop— _fuck_ , can you stop, seriously—“

Geoff didn't listen, until Jack’s hands closed around his arm and brought him to a stop.

“You’re making too much noise,” Jack hissed in his ear, before he could throw anything else.

Geoff hesitated, arm still raised, but Jack released him, and took several steps forward to point his gun at the man on the floor.

"He's got one," Gavin finally spoke up, peeking around the shelf corner to look between Geoff's panting form, Jack's unwavering arm, and the man now curled up on the floor, groaning. "A gun, I mean."

Geoff threw the can still in his hand and hit the man in the shoulder, resulting in a muffled cry of protest.

" _Geoff,_ ” Jack hissed, before he turned back to the man. He shook his gun for emphasis, still pointing it at his head. “Give us the gun.”

The man didn’t protest, just winced as he slowly held the gun up, then placed it on the ground.

“Slide it over,” Jack said.

“Is this a fucking movie?” the man complained, and Jack’s eyebrows lifted into his hairline as, still wincing, the man slid the gun over.

Without hesitation, Jack gingerly picked it up and passed it to Geoff.

"This is fake," Geoff said after a moment. "It's plastic."

"No shit, asshole," the man groaned. "I could have told you that, you didn't need to throw shit at me."

“You’re no soldier,” Geoff said, voicing aloud the realisation that hit all of them.

“No shit,” he repeated again.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, "Why'd you point your gun at me?" Gavin demanded, sounding outraged, the adrenaline running through him demanding an outlet. "I thought it was real!"

“Gavin,” Jack warned.

"Probably too late," Geoff pointed out, helpfully. "Anyone in a five mile radius probably already knows we're here."

"Yeah, thanks," the remaining man said sarcastically, bringing their focus back to him. "I wanted to _avoid_ attention. I was gunna get this asshole out of the store and then go lock myself out back. I figured it'd be easiest to avoid trouble."

Gavin couldn't be sure, but he thought that the man was glaring at him.

"But you just had to go and knock those fucking cans over."

"Alright, everybody, keep it down," Jack ordered. He readjusted his grip on the gun, then after a moment of hesitation, lowered it. "If anybody heard that, we're probably screwed." He looked between Geoff and Gavin. "We need to get out of here."

"Great,” the man muttered. “Lead them here and leave. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"You're a fuckin' ray of sunshine," Geoff muttered.

"What?" For a moment, the man looked surprised, brows furrowing as he turned to look at Geoff, but then it passed and his expression cleared. "Oh. Whatever. Just get out of here."

"No way. We need gas first."

There was a loud scoff. "Yeah, good luck with that. You just go ahead and try pumping gas, I'll wait."

"Nice try, asshole. If worst comes to worst, we're gunna try and syphon."

"What?" In the darkness, he scrambled upright, one arm closing around his ribs with a hiss. "No way, you'll set off an alarm or something! Get outta here if you're gunna do that. I choose _life_."

Geoff shrugged, and Gavin picked up a packet of chips off the shelf and started examining it.

"We're not leaving until we get gas. Sorry to inconvenience you, but we're the ones with the gun. The real gun."

"Why'd you have a bloody fake piece of plastic, anyway?" Gavin asked, looking up from the chips to frown at him.

He shrugged. "We sell a display of kids toys on a rack around here somewhere. I just broke one open. They look realistic enough, apparently. Enough to fool you."

"It's dark in here!" Gavin protested.

"Gavin," Geoff groaned. "Be quiet."

"Says you," Jack piped in. "The one who was throwing shit."

There was a loud, impatient exhale from the stranger. "Incredible. You’re all fucking idiots. Look, if I show you where the gas canisters are, will you get the fuck out of here?"

" _Yes._ " Geoff jumped on it, turning to the man and narrowing his eyes at him. For several long moments he analysed him, before he shook his head. "You're not a threat, are you," he asked, a not-quite question.

"Not unless you're scared of a fake gun. That I'm not even holding anymore."

"Right. Who are you, and is there anyone else around?"

"I'm Ray, and I fucking hope not, if you assholes are anything to go by."

"I'm Gavin," Gavin said, apparently forgiving what had occurred between them. "That's Geoff."

"Great to meet you," Ray said bitterly, still rubbing at the bruises forming on his arms. "Now will you get out of here already? I'll show you the gas," he said, assuming what they were going to say. "What do you take?"

"Eighty seven. Regular."

"Alright. I'll show you it, you take it, you leave. Deal? The last thing I need is more idiots attracting attention to this place. It’s amazing it’s gone unnoticed as long as it has."

The three of them shared a look, Jack biting back the urge to point out that it wouldn’t be long until it didn’t go unnoticed anymore, until eventually Geoff nodded.

"Gavin and I will go with you. Jack, start looking around for long lasting food, supplies, shit we might need. We don't need the screwdriver anymore, apparently."

"Alright." Jack handed Geoff the gun.

"There’s a flashlight by the counter. Batteries there, too,” Ray offered, sounding uninterested.

Jack nodded and left, and then it was just Gavin, Geoff, and Ray. They looked at each other.

"Fuel?" Geoff prompted.

Ray began leading them towards the corner of the store. "We've got shelf containers, but there's more out back. How much do you need?"

"How much do you think we need?" Geoff scoffed. "I don't see this fucking thing ending, and it's a long ass drive to where we're holed up."

"You're not in town?" Ray sounded surprised, turning to look them over. "How'd you get here? I mean, I saw you drive in like a fucking idiot, but I thought you'd be situated nearby. Driving around here at all is a fucking death sentence."

Gavin ducked his head guiltily and Geoff rubbed the back of his neck. "Well," he said. "You know."

"No, I don't. You sound like idiots."

"Well what about you?" Gavin demanded. "What are you bloody doing in a gas station in the middle of the night? Shouldn't you be at home?"

Ray scoffed. "I live alone in the shittiest apartment known to man. Believe it or not, living in a gas station is actually an upgrade. Not to mention it's safer here, there’s food, and I couldn't get home if I tried."

Geoff frowned, even though it was too dark to see, as they arrived in front of the shelves holding gas containers.

For a brief second, the store lit up, and they all jerked around to face the source of the sudden flash of light, only to see Jack sheepishly waving a flashlight. "I don't think it's a good idea to use a flashlight in here," he called softly, and he tucked it into his belt.

"Great," Ray muttered, and Gavin almost felt bad. "Here, these three canisters are all regular. There's more out the back, if you want," he offered, but he didn't sound too thrilled about it.

"Wouldn't it be locked?" Geoff asked, sounding confused, and he picked up a canister. "On that note, how come this fucking building isn't locked? How'd you get in here?"

His question was directed at Ray, but he also turned to direct his disapproving glare towards Gavin.

Gavin shrugged. "Just tried the doors," he admitted.

Geoff shook his head and let it go. He hefted up one of the containers and passed it to Gavin, then shoved one into Ray's arms. "Carry that to the car," he commanded them, and picked up his own.

Ray decided to answer anyway. "Yeah, I left it unlocked. I didn’t want to set the alarms because then if I needed out, I’d be stuck.” He turned to Gavin. “You’re lucky. If the alarm had been set, you would have been screwed when you banged your fuckin’ head on it." He gave a small snicker that Gavin frowned at.

They made it to the door, still open from when Gavin had entered, and snuck back out to the car. Some moonlight had returned, enough to illuminate their features, so they got a good look at Ray while he examined them. Eventually, he shrugged, and dropped the gas container on the ground with a groan.

"Why were you hiding anyway?" Gavin asked, trying to move the conversation on from where it had abruptly ended.

"What kind of question is that? I didn't know who the fuck you were," Ray defended. "I thought you were soldiers. Until you banged your fucking forehead on the door." He broke off into snickers. "What an idiot."

"Whatever," Gavin muttered, rubbing at his head. "I could have been seriously injured."

"Why'd you point a gun at him if you knew he wasn't a soldier?" Geoff pressed.

Ray lifted his shirt and jabbed a finger to his side. "Last person I saw wasn't a soldier, and they tried to stab me," he said. True to his word, there was a long, scabbed over wound situated on the skin of his ribs. He flinched when he lifted his arm, so Geoff knew it had to tender. "And again, _not a real gun_."

"How long ago was that?" the tattooed man asked, gesturing to it.

Ray shrugged. "Couple days ago, nearly a week. I don't know."

"I got injured too," Gavin piped in, and lifted his arm to show the small cut on his arm.

"That doesn't count," Geoff scoffed. "You can't compare almost being stabbed to getting cut by a rock."

Ray nodded at Gavin regardless. "Injury buddies," he declared.

Geoff was dumbfounded. “Unbelievable. The first real person we run into is an idiot."

Ray shrugged. “Says _you._ Anyway, not my fault. _You_ came _here._ ” He paused to look at them, then at their car, then tilt his head in the direction of the store Jack was still inside of. “I can’t believe you’re actually driving. I mean, are you fucking insane? I thought holing up in the gas station was bad, but I never expected anyone to drive in here for gas. You might not have noticed, but there’s a fucking war going on.”

“Wow, thanks for the update,” Geoff said dryly. “And we had no other choice. It was either come here, to the only station on the outskirts that we know of, or go further in there.” He gestured in the direction of the city.

Ray looked at them strangely. “Just fucking walk!”

His exclamation wasn’t that loud, but it echoed loudly in the night. They flinched, and looked accusingly at Ray.

“We can’t walk,” Geoff hissed, crouching behind the car. “We’re hiding out of town.”

“Right." Ray still looked unsure about that, and he eyed them in confusion. "So you're hiding out of town, but you're here. Why’d you come back?”

Geoff ducked around to the side of the car to open the gas tank cover, not offering an answer.

“That’s a good question,” Gavin nodded. He turned to Geoff. “Why did we come back, again? Oh, right, because Jack pointed a gun at me. Actually, now we mention it, I’m gettin’ pretty sick of having guns pointed at me, you know?”

“That’s not why, asshole,” Geoff responded distractedly, unscrewing the lid of the portable gas canister. He lifted it to the now open fuel tank in the car and began pouring it in, sloshing some on himself when he glanced around nervously. “Where’s Jack?”

They shared a worried glance, but as if on cue, the bearded man emerged from the shadows, his arms full of food. “There’s another pile back in the station,” he said. “I’m carrying what I can. Also, lots of torches, and plenty of batteries.”

“Don’t take all my shit,” Ray complained. “I’m trying to survive here too.”

Gavin looked at him, but before he could say anything Geoff was speaking.

“Take Jack and Gavin out back to where you said all the gas tanks were. We’ll pile them up in the back, as many as we can. If there’s not enough regular, just stack premium, it doesn’t fucking matter.” He gave a dry laugh. “Not like we’re paying for it.”

“I’m gunna get so fired when all this ends,” Ray laughed.

They turned to look at him, and for the first time, noticed the drab work shirt and name tag he wore. “Ray Narvaez Jerr,” Gavin read aloud.

Ray covered the name tag protectively, but stopped to stare at Gavin, dumbfounded. “It's Junior,” he told him. “The J-R stands for Junior.”

“Oh.”

“Jesus Christ, now is not the time. Come on,” Jack urged, herding them towards the shop. “We need to get out of here.”

That was all it took to return the atmosphere to the nervous wreck it had been before. They hurried through the gas store towards a door at the back labelled _employees only_ , where Ray fumbled around with some keys on a chain before he unlocked it and pushed it open.

There was a small office that had another door at the back, presumably leading to where they needed to go, but Gavin was distracted by the set up Ray had constructed in the small room.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” he asked, still whispering.

Ray shrugged.

“So you obviously work here,” Jack said. “You were working on New Year’s Eve?”

“Nailed it,” Ray said, leading them towards the back, past boxes of stock with labels that couldn’t be made out in the darkness. “Was on the overnight shift.”

“What happened?” Gavin asked, figuring it was best just to ask outright.

Ray shrugged. “First news I heard of anything being wrong was when some people came running in, out of breath and yelling and shit. I was just kinda standing there behind the counter, and they just started saying shit about people with guns, and I was _like I dunno what the fuck's going on,_ they're probably on crack or something. They asked to use the phone and I let them, kinda wondering if I should call the cops, but I was lazy and they didn’t look like they were gunna rob me or anything so I didn’t really care.”

Gavin looked like he wanted to ask more, but Jack urged them on, gesturing for Ray to unlock the next door.

Ray did so, and he led them through the storage room to the back. He stopped in front of a pallet of gas canisters with a fake flourish. “These are what you want.”

Jack picked up two. “Let’s carry as many as we can fit in the car.”

Ray groaned but picked up one, and Gavin did the same.

“Then what?” he prompted, as they began their walk out.

“Then I listened to whatever they were saying on the phone, wondering if they were on drugs, and if so, where I could get any, but then halfway through the power cut out and they freaked. Ran out of the store and back onto the streets, and I was left alone.”

He groaned and hefted the gas can higher in his arms. “So I stayed there for a while, playing my DS, and then a whole bunch of trucks started going by. The power was still out, by the way, so I was standing in a pitch black store—”

“Why didn’t you go out and see what was going on?” Jack asked, doubtfully.

“I didn’t really give a fuck,” Ray admitted. “I figured the people that came in were a bunch of weirdos. The power cut struck as me as strange, but what the fuck could I do about it, so I stayed there until the trucks and shit started going by. Then I was just kinda standing there at the door as a whole shitload of military looking shit rolled by, with all these armed assholes in them, and I was like welp, fuck. So I went and hid out back till morning.”

“Are you serious?” Jack asked. They reached the car, the cold night air washing over them, and started putting the gas canisters in the trunk. Geoff appeared from around the side, a finger to his lips.

“I can hear you assholes from over there,” he told them, annoyed. “Keep it the fuck down.”

“Ray’s telling us how he ended up here,” Gavin whispered back.

“Great, I don’t fucking care. I care about getting us the fuck _out_ of here. How much more gas was there?”

“Plenty,” Jack told him confidently. “How much do we want to bring?”

Geoff looked around, as if expecting someone to jump out at them, then up at the moon in the sky. “As much as we can get in the next five minutes. Then we seriously need to go. We’ve been here long enough, and I really don’t like it.”

“I hear that,” Jack agreed, a frown on his face. “Emma has been alone too long. She’s still not recovered, and even though I gave her several different water bowls in case one got knocked over, there’s still not enough for much more than a day or two.”

“Hasn’t been that long, has it,” Gavin replied.

“We’re still at threat being here,” Jack shot back.

“Nobody really comes past here,” Ray offered quietly. “A few military things, maybe a few times a day. Why do you think I’ve stayed here so long?”

“Because there’s nowhere else to go?”

“Hm,” Ray shrugged. “Good point.”

Geoff shook his head. “Jesus Christ. Come on, let’s get that gas. You can tell us your shitty story while we pack the car. The tank’s full, by the way.”

“Glad to help,” Ray muttered dryly.

“What have you been doing since?” Gavin asked, pulling his attention back to the previous conversation as they hurried back towards the open doors.

“What’s it fucking look like? Hiding. Eating. Staying alive. Waiting for this shit to end.” He glanced at Gavin. “What about you?”

Gavin shrugged. “Same. We came down here because Jack wanted to help people.” He scoffed. “Bloody lucky we can help ourselves, if you ask me.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Good luck helping anyone. Everyone I’ve met has tried to kill me. Except you. Well, Geoff threw shit at me. And Jack did point a gun at me.”

“You did it first.”

Ray laughed quietly. As they picked up their next load of gas cans, the conversation providing a welcome distraction from the atmosphere and the heavy weight in their arms, a thought struck Gavin.

“Hey, come back with us,” he offered.

Geoff nearly tripped over. “What?” he hissed, turning to face him in the darkness.

“What?”

“You can’t just invite him back, Gavin, we don’t know who the _fuck_ he is.”

“Sure I can,” Gavin shrugged. “Jack wanted to help people. Ray’s here by himself.”

“ _That’s_ your idea of helping?” Geoff demanded, but the hostile tone to his voice faded as they passed the office and through the store.

“Well. He’s all by himself, and we’re takin’ half his stuff. Least we could do is offer him a better place to stay, instead of a dark store that’ll he'll probably die in.”

"Wow, don't sugar coat it," Ray muttered.

“I thought you didn’t want to help people,” Geoff argued, but he knew he wasn’t really arguing that point. He was filled with insecurity about inviting a stranger into their midst, especially when Gavin was at risk, but he had no way to express that.

Gavin sighed with relief as they put the cans down in the back of the car, rubbing his sore muscles. “Changed my mind,” he said simply.

“We don’t even know if he wants to come back with us.”

In unison, all eyes turned to Ray.

The skinny boy waved.

“It’s not like we don’t have the room,” Jack finally piped in, and they turned back to him. “I don’t see why we can’t. At least we’d be giving him a better chance of surviving through the end of this than if he stayed here.”

“I’ll come,” Ray shrugged. “If you’re asking. I mean, I'm an asshole, but it kind of really sucks here. My DS ran out of battery like three days ago. And if you're serious about having a place way out of town, then well, shit. I have to leave here eventually, and chances are it’s better out there than anywhere else here I could go.”

Another short silence fell.

“He’s just buying time here, Geoff,” Jack began, but Geoff interrupted him with a shake of the head.

“Jesus Christ. Alright, fine. We’ll load up with another set of gas canisters, grab the rest of that food, and then we’re getting the hell out of dodge.” He stopped to look at the road, voice lowering as goosebumps ran up his arms. “We’ve been here too long.”

They obeyed his orders quickly, without even a single complaint. They grabbed the remaining food and flashlights Jack had put in a neat pile on the counter and made to leave, but before they left, Ray stopped them.

“I just need to get some things,” he said, and Gavin followed him into the office behind the main room of the shop.

The smaller boy climbed up on a chair to get to the desk situated in the corner and proceeded to balance himself on top of the desk. With a groan, he reached up and pushed on one of the tiles in the ceiling until it lifted, and Gavin squinted up, but he couldn’t make out anything past the blackness until Ray shone a light in there.

“It’s where all my stuff is,” he said, reaching up an arm and feeling around.

He pulled out a radio, a handheld DS and a small glass object before shoving them in the pockets of his hoodie and stepping down off the desk. He ignored Gavin’s quizzical look and tilted his head in the direction they had to go, taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself for what lay ahead. His nervousness transferred to Gavin, and the short walk back was completed in silence, their nerves rendering them silent as they realised they were leaving the relative safety of the store to get back on the road.

As they reapproached the car, Ray chucked the radio at Geoff.

“It’s pretty useless,” he directed at him. “It gets a bunch of stations, but they're all static. Including the one they _used_ , key word there, don’t get your hopes up, to communicate.”

Geoff froze, wondering if he heard that correctly. “Are you serious?” he asked. "You have the station they used to communicate?"

“Had,” Ray said. “Or one of them, at least, until they changed it or something. All I know is one day it just turned to static, just like the rest of them."

“But it still got it."

"Temporarily, yes, but--"

"Good enough. Sorry for doubting you. Welcome to the fucking club, let’s get the shit out of here.”

Ray shrugged. “Alright, whatever."

They piled into the car, but they sat there in silence for a long moment while Geoff mentally prepared himself.

“Put that radio on, Jack,” he commanded. “Tell me if anything comes up.”

They both knew it wouldn’t do anything, but if he felt better for it, Jack wouldn’t say anything. He just obeyed without a word as Geoff took a deep breath and started the car.

“That fastest way out of this joint is the way we came,” he muttered.

He was talking mostly to himself, pondering aloud as he considered their lacking options, but Jack took it upon himself to respond.

“I don’t like it,” the bearded man agreed, still looking for an on switch for the radio. “It’s too vulnerable. Are there any other ways?”

Geoff hesitated, meeting Gavin’s eyes in the rear view mirror, but he shook his head. “None that are nearly as fast, or stick to the outskirts.”

“But ones that aren’t highways,” Jack said meaningfully.

“Can we just go?” Gavin piped up.

“Yeah, the sooner the better,” Ray agreed. “I’d rather be inside, safe.”

Without another word, Geoff reversed out, and pulled onto the road.

Tensions skyrocketed, and they fell into a tense silence that lasted almost a minute.

Ray finally broke it. “I can’t believe I’m actually letting you drive me,” he said. For the first time, he looked noticeably nervous, wringing his hands together. “Do you know how many trucks come down this road?”

"Thought you said there weren't many."

" _Any_ are too many when you're on the road with them!"

Jack and Geoff shared a look.

“We didn’t run into any on the way here,” Geoff finally said.

“Jesus.” Ray shook his head. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

Gavin turned around to peer out the back windows. “Just a bit,” he said casually, but there was a nervous strain to his voice.

“Right.” Ray took Gavin’s cue and started looking out the windows. “Do we, uh, have a plan if we run into any cars? Specifically any bad guy cars?”

“We were doing a really good job of ignoring that possible eventuality before you came along,” Geoff told him. “I’d like to continue that.”

“I mean, are you sure?” Ray gave a small laugh. “I don’t know how well you can ignore a bunch of cars shooting at you.”

“Or a tank,” Gavin agreed quietly.

Ray turned to him. “Right? Did you see those things? Holy fuck, dude.”

“Things? As in, more than one?” Gavin squeaked at him.

“Dude, you’re kidding. I’ve seen like, five. But it might have been the same one, I guess,” he said, after a moment.

“Geoff,” Jack said from the front seat. He wasn't listening to the conversation in the backseat.

“I bloody hope so.” Gavin’s eyes were wide. “We can’t do jack about one tank, let alone five.”

“Geoff,” Jack repeated, and something in his tone made the boys in the back stop and listen to him. “Tell me that’s not—“

“Headlights,” Geoff breathed, as the interior of the car was bathed in light.

_"Geoff!"_

Geoff jerked the wheel and they swerved violently to the left, tyres screeching as the car hurtled past them. They were on two wheels for a terrifying few seconds before they hit the ground again with a heavy _thump_ , and Gavin was thrown forward into the back of Geoff’s seat.

“Fuck!” Geoff cursed, and he slammed on the accelerator, glancing distractedly at the rear view mirror. Ray, smart enough to put his seatbelt on, chanced a look at Gavin as he picked himself up from the floor.

"Idiot," he said, before he spun around to stare out the back window.

“What were they doing on our side of the road?” Geoff demanded, his hands clenching tight to the steering wheel. “Are they soldiers?”

He fought the urge to look back over his shoulder, trusting Jack to tell him if they saw anything.

Gavin joined Ray a moment later. “I can’t see them,” he said apprehensively, face practically glued to the glass.

“They came out of fucking _nowhere_ ,” Geoff shouted. “They nearly ran right into us — why were they on our side of the _fucking road_?” He craned his head forward to try and see the dark road further ahead.

“Another survivor, maybe?” Jack tried.

"Christ," Gavin moaned, rubbing his forehead where he'd hit the back of Geoff's seat.

The tattooed man turned his gaze from the road so that he could see in the rear view mirror to Gavin, then darted back, panic flooding through him at the possibility that the car would pursue them. His judgement faded momentarily, and he craned his head around to see if he could spot any sign of the car. A second later, Jack slammed a hand on the wheel and pointed forward.

" _Geoff_!” he cried. "Keep your eyes on the road!"

The road itself was blurring by around them, and Jack was almost worrying more about the likelihood of them flying off of it than the car they'd passed when Gavin spoke.

“Do you think they saw us?” he asked tentatively.

“Of course they fucking saw us!” Jack shouted. “How could they have missed us?”

“Yeah, they definitely saw us,” Ray said. His voice was tight and fearful, and Gavin knew what he’d say before he could even say it. “They’re coming up behind us, um, pretty fast.” He turned to Geoff, his dark eyes wide behind his glasses. “Any chance we can go a little faster?”

“Not unless we want to do their job for them,” Geoff replied, voice cracking. "We're going way too fast and we don't have any goddamn headlights!"

"Slow down!" Jack cried.

"Did you hear Ray a second ago? Look behind us, Jack!"

Gavin finally buckled himself in. “Oh, Jesus,” he murmured, his voice dull.

Ray echoed that sentiment, still staring out the window at the car that was gaining on them. The headlights started to light up the back of the car as it got closer.

“Geoff?” he managed. “How long are we staying on this road?"

“Too fucking long,” Geoff said. He sounded desperate. “Fuck. Shit. Jack, do you still have that gun?”

“Of course I have the gun! What do you want me to do, shoot at them? They could be innocents!”

“Look out that fucking window and tell me that’s not one of the same fucking cars we saw in the patrols earlier!’ Geoff cried.

“Jesus.” Jack pulled the gun from his belt and clicked off the safety. “Do I just lean out the window and shoot? What if I—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his question when the first of the gunshots rang out.  A piece of shrapnel from the road hit the side of the car and they all screamed, Geoff swerving instinctively to the left. He skidded, the tyres squealing loudly as he hurried to straighten out again, his heart jammed in his throat.

They regained their balance, and his choices quickly narrowed down to easing off the accelerator as more gunshots rang out and he began to swerve, his heart jarred in his throat at the idea of the wheel slipping under his sweaty fingers.

“Holy shit!"

Ray ducked down in his seat as the next of the gunshots shattered the back windshield and sprayed them with glass. Gavin cried out, and Geoff desperately wanted to spin around in his seat and see if he was hit.

“Fucking shoot them, Jack!” he cried, his voice strangled.

“You’re moving around too much!” Jack yelled back. More gunshots rang out, and Geoff’s hands were so sweaty he was afraid he’d yank the wheel too hard and send them flying off the road.

In the rear view mirror, he saw Ray grab Gavin by the collar. " _Get down,_ " Ray ordered, and he dragged Gavin down so they were flat on the seat, smaller targets, the wind howling through the now gaping back windscreen.

Jack leaned out the window and fired wildly, once, twice.

“Aim at them!” Geoff tried to yell at him, but he was drowned out by Ray and Gavin’s scream as the next bullet punctured through the top of the back seat and out through Ray’s side window.

Ray kicked wildly at the back of Geoff’s seat. “We’ve got fucking gas cans in the back!”

Geoff hadn’t thought he could be any more scared, but Ray’s words sparked a new flame of terror in him.

A shot sounded loudly near him, but it was Jack, leaning half out the window and firing. A second later he let out a loud cry, and Geoff nearly shouted at him, but he yelled back at them, “I hit their car!”

Geoff couldn't make his voice work to shout back an answer, and he was sure if he had, it would have been lost to the wind howling through the broken windows. He heard someone shout something but he missed it, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jack pull himself back in the car and frantically try and load bullets with violently shaking hands.

He wanted to tell him to go faster, but his attention was snatched by Ray kneeling on the backseat and leaning into the back.

"You're gunna get shot!" Gavin shouted, and he reached up to pull him down, but Geoff swerved at that moment and he was thrown into the car door with a grunt.

He slumped there for a moment, dazed, and Geoff realised he'd been looking at them too long when he felt the car slipping out of his control. It drifted to the right and Geoff tried to get them back on course, but he overcompensated and yanked on the wheel and they skidded hard.

He managed to cling onto the wheel and pull it back again, and by some miracle he corrected it, but they'd slowed down significantly and the car behind them had gotten close enough that Ray could see the individual faces of the soldiers leaning out the windows pointing guns at them.

Then he threw the gas can with all his might out of the broken back windshield. It hit the ground and seemed to bounce, but a second later, the car drove straight into it, and the sound of squealing brakes was lost in the small explosion that enveloped the entire front end of the pursuing vehicle.

His eyes wide and his pulse thundering in his ears, he watched, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing as the vehicle lost control and skidded until it flipped, metal screeching as it was dragged across the tarmac by its sheer momentum. He saw glass fly out as the windows were shattered by the sudden collapse of the frame, and he flinched down, his hand shooting out to push Gavin out of the way. Over the top of the backseat, he glimpsed a flash of a screaming face disappear underneath the rolling vehicle.

His stomach lurched threateningly and he shut his eyes and looked away, ducking down behind the protection of the backseat. He missed the next explosion that lit up the night sky, and the screams that came with it were drowned out by the sound of the wind, and the distance quickly coming between them. He didn’t look back until he couldn’t see flames from the wreck as they drove further and further away, until even the billowing smoke couldn’t be seen.

He turned to Gavin, who was staring at him, his eyes wide and hair whipping wildly around his face as the wind buffeted the small car around, but he couldn't find anything to say.


	14. feel the winds rolling in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if 4 wasnt bad how about 6 hahaha,, hahahaha fuc k  
> love me anyway bcos i am beyond sorry, i have no excuses. i dont want to put it on hiatus because then i will never write for it but i barely remember it as is which is sad because this fic was my life for like 2 months straight when i started out rip 
> 
> another note: obvs these chapters wereintended to be posted closer together, so some arent as full on as could be. thank you wholeheartedly to everyone who's stood by this fic <3 much love 
> 
> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

Hours later, tired but still shaking from the leftover adrenaline still lingering in his veins, Geoff pulled out from the hidden trail and into the small clearing around the cabin. Working on instinct, he parked it further between the trees than he usually would, trying to gain all possible cover offered from the dense foliage.

Nobody commented on it, and when he had finally pulled the car to a complete stop, the sun was just beginning to cast its first pinkish rays over the top of the tree line. The world was quiet, with nothing but the chirping of crickets and birds breaking the silence of the early morning air. It would have been peaceful.

It wasn't. Geoff wished it could be loud, something to distract him from his mind. The adrenaline from before, though useful at the time, now haunted him, refusing to fade completely. They all stumbled from the car in varying degrees of lingering shock, wobbly legs barely proving strong enough to support them as they got their feet under them and stepped onto the springy grass.

Without a moment of hesitation, Geoff moved towards Gavin and threw his arms around him, pulling him to his chest. Gavin froze, but when he regained his senses he hugged him back, offering a few weak pats in consolation as Geoff shuddered with unreleased tension.

There were a few awkward moments while Ray and Jack politely avoided their eyes, until Geoff pulled back, drawing in several deep breaths and leaving both hands on Gavin’s shoulders to ground himself.

Gavin was fine. He was here. They were all fine. Everyone was fine.

Okay.

_Alive._

Jack was the first to speak. “Is everybody okay?”

“Not a scratch,” Ray confirmed, sounding dull but surprisingly okay.

“Gavin?” Jack prompted. “Geoff?”

“I’m good,” Gavin confirmed. He glanced at Geoff. “Really, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine, asshole," he said, but Geoff didn't meet his eyes.

The whole car ride back, he’d been playing the events over and over again in his mind, unable to escape the harrowing knowledge that he’d almost got them killed.

Every moment on the road, from the blinding headlights to the car coming out at them straight on, to Jack shouting his name, to yanking the wheel so hard they nearly flipped. To the beginning of the gunfire, how for a split second he'd thought the boys in the backseat had been shot when their screams had torn through the air in tandem with the shattering of the window.

To the way he’d nearly driven them to their deaths trying to protect them, to the way the surety that their lives were in his hands had settled over his mind like an icy blanket. How it had felt like it would never end and they'd drive down that endless road forever, trying desperately to postpone death for a few more moments.

It was a cool wind blowing across his face that eased him back into reality, and he realised he was still standing there, staring into nothing.

Gavin and Ray had moved back to examine the car, but Jack was still watching him, worry evident in the crease of his forehead.

The bearded man stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder. If he felt the jerk of surprise that Geoff didn’t have time to repress, he didn’t comment, thankfully allowing it to go unmentioned. "Are you alright?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

Geoff nodded. "Yeah.” He didn't get a chance to say anything more, because Gavin peeked his head around the side of the car to frown at him. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered, but he knew he’d been caught out.

"You're shaking," Gavin pointed out needlessly. "And you're all hunched up."

"Yeah, well I’m sure you’re a bit fucked up, too.”

He didn’t mean to sound so bitter, and he wasn't sure whether he'd meant for it to be a joke or not. But it wasn't funny at all, and the undercurrent of truth wiped away any hint of a smile that could have pulled at his lips.

Gavin gave a short, halting laugh. "'Spose," he agreed, and without another word he wandered back over to where Ray was examining the bullet holes in the car.

Jack cleared his throat, waiting until Geoff looked at him. "You look like you need rest,” he commented. “I imagine it would have been incredibly stressful trying to drive through all that. Thanks for not, you know, killing us.”

Geoff gave a dry laugh, but Jack just flashed him another concerned look before continuing. “How about you go to bed, and I’ll start moving the fuel somewhere safe? I’ll rope Gavin into helping me find somewhere, and he and Ray can help me carry it. You should sleep.”

It was a small gesture of kindness, but it was so _understanding,_ and his sheer concern for Geoff seemed so touching it nearly overwhelmed him. That, just as much as everything else, let him know he was unstable. Rest was a good idea, if he could manage it.

“Thank you,” he said, and his tone came out gentler than he’d expected. He offered Jack a brief but genuine smile as he moved past him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as Jack had done to him earlier.

“I’ll feed your dog, and give her water and all that shit while I’m in there,” he offered, and watched a surprised smile bloom on Jack’s face. “Try not to worry too much.” When Jack didn't respond, Geoff gave the first small, earnest laugh he'd had in a while. “I might not know much about you, Jack, or even your last name, but I can tell you’re a worrier.”

With a shake of the head to hide his smile, Geoff turned to walk towards the steps.

“Pattillo,” Jack called after him, before he could disappear inside.

Geoff paused in the doorway and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, before he nodded. “Ramsey,” he returned, and no more words were spoken as he closed the door behind him.

Jack stood for a few more moments, staring at the closed door, before he shook himself and turned back to the car. Ray and Gavin were still examining it, circling around and pointing out bullet holes and parts of the car that had been marked in the fire fight.

“Geoff’s going to bed,” Jack told them, when they looked up at his approach. “As soon as we move the fuel somewhere safe, I'd suggest you do the same."

"It's morning!" Gavin protested loudly.

"Have fun with your messed up sleeping patterns," Ray agreed. Before Jack could protest, Ray gestured towards the car with a mixture of excitement and another emotion Jack couldn’t quite place.

“Have you _seen_ this?” he practically demanded, jabbing another finger towards it.

“Believe it or not, yes,” Jack remarked. “I was in fact in it.”

“Wow. Vinegar,” Gavin muttered. “Thought you’d be a little more chipper considering we _lived_.”

“Why is it you seem to disregard all dangerous scenarios as soon as you’re not in them anymore?” Jack asked, exasperation and a tinge of annoyance to his voice.

Gavin shrugged. “It’s a blessin’. Or a curse. Sorry I want to celebrate that we _lived_.” He didn’t seem offended, and he didn’t even give Jack the chance to come up with a response before he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to where Ray was hovering. “Look!”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “A bullethole. In the car. That got shot at.”

“Look at this one, though,” Ray enthused, pointing through the broken side window. “This one goes straight between me and Gavin. Like, _right_ between us. I mean, I knew they came close, but...”

Jack peered past him, and even he had to do a double take. The seating looked like it had exploded, with bits of foam littering the seat and the floor. It wasn’t neat at all, not a round little hole like it was in movies. He followed Gavin’s finger to the non-existent back windscreen.

“We reckon it came in after this was shattered,” he informed him. “Because Ray swears he felt the bullet go past his face, since it was his window it went out of, and the back windshield was like, the first thing to go.”

"Mmm. We should scrape the remaining glass out of the windows soon," Jack responded idly, not really paying attention. He’d caught a glimpse of the fuel cans still lying haphazardly in the trunk, and he was refocused now on storing them somewhere so he could head to bed, sleeping patterns be damned.

He doubted they’d be going anywhere in the near future. The thought of leaving again, going back there - it made him shudder, sent prickles of unease down his spine, so he decided pushing those thoughts away and getting his hands busy was a wise course of action.

Ray and Gavin shared dismal looks when Jack pulled the first of the cans from the trunk. “You’re helping carry these,” he told them.

“But—”

“What the hell?” Jack cut him off. He pulled his hands away from the canister he was holding and sniffed them. A moment later he grimaced, wiping his hands on his pants carelessly and placing the canister on the ground. “One of them is broken.”

“What?” Gavin sounded alarmed. “But... wouldn’t we be dead?”

“Well clearly it didn’t get _shot_."

“ _Clearly_ ,” Ray mimicked. Then he frowned. “I thought these things were meant to be leak proof.”

“It must have burst at some point,” Jack murmured, trying to sift through the cans without moving them too much.

When that proved to be difficult, he started lifting them out and placing them on the ground away from the car, ordering Ray and Gavin to check each one. As it turns out, he didn’t need to, because he found the ruptured canister only moments later.

“As if the smell wasn’t bad enough,” he coughed, backing away a step. The strong, overpowering stench of undiluted fuel wafting into his face made his eyes water.

“Now the whole car’s gunna smell like petrol,” Gavin complained, from where he was stood safely metres away. He’d smelt it before Jack had, and had wisely moved off, claiming consideration of his gag reflex.

“It doesn’t even smell bad,” Ray defended. “You guys are babies.”

“You work in a fuel station!” Gavin cried.

“So? It doesn’t smell bad at all! A little strong, but it’s not like something died.”

Behind him, Gavin gagged, and Jack was attempting to tune them out when Ray stepped up next to him and picked up the broken canister. One of the seams had burst, but the bottom half of the tank, lying longways, still held liquid, so he carried it delicately to the side and placed it on the grass.

“You might be able to find use for that,” he commented.

Jack looked vaguely impressed. That lasted until Ray scuffed a shoe into the ground and asked, “Does that mean I get out of carrying the rest?”

"Nice try."

* * *

 

Carrying the fuel to the small shed where the firewood was kept didn’t take as long as it had to get it into the car in the first place. Eventually, after the first few trips, Gavin had convinced Jack that backing Geoff’s car up closer to the shed was actually more bearable than listening to him whine for a moment longer.

"Why the fuck do you have _fireworks_ in here?" Ray had demanded, when they’d opened it up to the sunshine.

Surprised, Gavin had to poke his head in to confirm that amongst the dismantled display shelves, there were the excess fireworks — those that they hadn't had room for, or had been deemed unfitting to the specific effects Gavin had strived to create.

He was lost for a moment, thinking of the memories that seemed thousands of years old, like drifting in the plunge pool with Geoff was from another lifetime and another place, too far from this reality to co-exist in it.

Instead of answering, Gavin just said "You know Geoff tried to sell me once, for what those fireworks would roughly be worth?"

Ray had stared at him.

"Yeah?" Jack had prompted. "How much is that worth?"

"Bout six hundred," Gavin frowned. "Got caught at the border with the people who were helpin' us smuggle 'em in, and first thing Geoff tried to do was sell me. _Sell me_. And not even for a good price. Six hundred lousy bucks."

"Big surprise," Jack laughed.

"Ray's probably barely worth that much."

"Hey!"

And the conversation had lulled into an easy silence until the last of the canisters were stored safely to the side.

"See?" Gavin said. “Wasn’t that easier? I’m full of good ideas.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “Like driving to the fuel station. And almost getting us killed.”

“We lived, didn’t we? And we solved our gas problem? And we got Ray? I’m only counting positives, here.”

“Evidently,” Jack muttered, even though that wasn’t what Gavin had meant and he knew it. “If coming within an inch of being peppered with bullets is a positive to you, then who am I to disagree?”

“Damn right,” Gavin nodded. “Hey, wait.”

“Oh, do you want to try getting shot?” Jack asked innocently.

“Oh boy, can I?” Ray volunteered blandly.

“No, but you can drive the car back,” Jack offered, throwing him the keys.

Ray didn’t lift a hand to catch them. They hit the grass beside him with a muffled thump. “No thanks,” he said. “I can’t drive, anyway.”

Jack, who’d been about to call him out for being lazy, choked on his words and started spluttering. “Are you kidding me? Who doesn’t know how to drive these days?”

Gavin waved a hand, and Jack turned to him. “You’re so full of shit,” he accused, but Gavin just shook his head.

“People always used to drive me around. I was a world renowned hitchhiker,” he said cheerfully. “And now I have Geoff!”

“This is unbelievable.” Jack shook his head. “How old are you, again?”

“Eh.” Gavin flapped a hand. “Anyway, I’m starving. Almost dying can take a lot out of a guy.”

“I hear that,” Ray nodded, and he followed Gavin towards the cabin. He paused, and Gavin did too. “I, uh, don’t spose there’s any chance you have a toilet in there?” he asked, scrutinising the building.

“Nah. Got an outhouse, but it's shite. Go bush.” Gavin pointed at the closest tree.

Ray hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, and without a word headed off to find a tree to piss behind.

Jack took the time to tackle something that had been bugging him.

“So now you’re fine with almost dying,” he said, without any preamble.

“Of course not.” Gavin looked at him strangely. “Don’t be dumb.”

“I’m not being—” he broke off with a frustrated noise, and adjusted the glasses on his face. It was a miracle they weren’t broken. Or that he was alive to think about that, but that was something he didn’t want to consider. “I just find it hard to believe you’re as casual about it as you seem.”

That was an understatement. He flat out _refused_ to believe Gavin was really as nonchalant as he looked. Ray was a mystery, but he’d seen Gavin the first time he’d almost been shot, and the difference between now and then was immense, and Jack just couldn’t comprehend it.

The only reason _he_ hadn’t disappeared to collapse onto the lounge and try and will consciousness away by now was because he’d offered to transport the fuel for Geoff.

“You’re not doin’ too bad, either,” Gavin pointed out.

“But — that’s different, first of all, and second of all, it’s not the first time I’ve been shot at! Or the second,” he continued, before Gavin could point out the obvious. “I just find it hard to believe you’re — well, not more shaken up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not in shock, for starters. You’re not...” He almost said spaced out, but that brought back memories of how Geoff had looked earlier, and he wasn’t sure if that was a wise thing to mention. By then, it was too late to try and finish it. “It’s a good thing,” he said weakly. “But...”

“But?” Gavin was still looking at him strangely.

“I just — are you sure you’re okay?”

Gavin looked surprised, but not as much as Jack felt. He hadn’t planned to say that, partly because he didn’t expect a proper answer and partly because he didn’t think he liked Gavin enough to ask. But, at that moment, that didn’t seem as important as the worry that was stubbornly set in his gut that told him it was important to look out for other people, and that included Gavin.

“I’m fine,” Gavin said, breaking Jack out of his thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably for a second, looking like he was going to say something more, and after a moment he did. “Haven’t really been thinking about it,” he admitted. “Easier to focus on other things, and try not to let it get to me.” He glanced at Jack. “Is that... normal?”

“Well, yeah,” Jack managed, just as surprised. “I mean, yes, it is, but...”

He hadn’t pegged Gavin as someone to think like that.

“I mean, I’m not purposely doin’ it,” Gavin said hurriedly, as if he could tell what Jack was thinking. “I just... It’s easy to be distracted, it seems. And I mean, I don’t want what happened last time...” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence, and he could tell without words that Jack understood.

If Gavin had looked bad when he was in shock, Jack couldn’t imagine what it had been like in his brain. His own recollection of the long first days nudged at him, trying for his attention, but Ray appeared at that moment with a loud sigh of relief and a “Welp, that’s fuckin’ better,” , that brought a laugh out of both the men at the stairs.

“Seriously,” he commented, “I nearly pissed myself in that car. You thought fuel smells bad.”

“Gross,” Gavin laughed, and led them up the stairs, acting as if the conversation with Jack had never happened.

Jack followed them, still lost in thought. It had been a long night, and he was relieved that the prospect of future days, hopefully secure up here — at least until the omnipresent guilt of being safe came knocking at his door —  were more positive than what they’d just faced.

That thought was sent flying from his mind when he nearly walked right into Ray.

“Hey, watch it,” he started, side stepping around him, but Ray ignored him, still wandering slowly forward with an awed look on his face, his eyebrows raised just enough to show how impressed he was.

Despite everything Gavin couldn't help but take a little bit of delight in it. "Geoff's like, ancient ancestors built this," he told him conspiratorially, pride evident in his tone.

Ray crinkled his nose. “It smells like shit,” he commented, but he was still impressed.

“Yeah it does,” Gavin said meaningfully. “ _Jack.”_

Jack wasn’t even listening, ignoring them completely as he hurried over to Emma. She gave a few relieved whines and a yip, and Jack was quick to lavish her in attention, ruffing up her coat and cooing to her.

Gavin wandered over for a pat, and even Ray came over to see what was going on.

He looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Cool, a dog,” he said admiringly.

“Egg," Gavin said happily.

“ _Emma,”_ Jack sighed, but he didn’t stop Gavin from patting her. He felt guilty for leaving her alone again, even though she wasn’t tied up this time, and he was pleased that she hadn’t caused any obvious damage to the house.

There were several messes that he evidently needed to clean up, and the house reeked of dog piss, but no more comments were made, and for that, Jack was grateful.

And then Gavin spoke up. “Gross, Jack. Keep her outside next time.”

Jack hugged her closer and glared up at Gavin. “It’s safer in here.”

“Not for my nostrils,” Gavin muttered.

Ray made a noise of agreement, but his attention was diverted from the dog for now. “This place is fucking impressive.”

“You know what’s impressive,” Gavin prompted, but he didn’t even wait for an answer. “You blowin’ that car up.”

Ray startled, turning back to stare at him. His eyebrows were in his hairline, but this time not because he was impressed. “What?” he managed.

“You blowin’ the car up!”

“That wasn’t— I didn’t blow it up!” Ray looked between Gavin and Jack, but the older man kept quiet.

“Did so! You threw the fuel can at ‘em, and they exploded!”

"I was just trying to get rid of them before they shot it," Ray admitted. "I didn't think it'd fuckin' _explode_."

"It's highly flammable, of course it'd explode!" Gavin cried.

"Well yeah! But I was more worried about it exploding while it was _inside_ the car!"

"You never would have thrown them all out in time! And then we wouldn't have had any fuel!" Gavin argued, but he was evidently amused, the corner of his lip was tugging upwards.

"Well I didn't exactly want to explode," Ray argued back, and he followed it with a rapid fire laugh that made Gavin raise both eyebrows with delight.

"You sure made _them_ explode.”.

"I can't believe that," Jack said, drawing their attention to him for a moment. He shook his head his head at their matching stares.

"Well, believe it," Gavin said.

"No, think about it," Jack pushed. "We _literally_ blew up an enemy car. We got chased down a highway in the middle of the night and got _shot at_ , and _we_ ended up surviving and _they_ ended up... well.”

He suddenly realised that Ray was quiet, looking down at the ground with the beginning of a frown on his face. The brief atmosphere of victory immediately vanished.

“Do you think I did that?” Ray asked, lifting his gaze to meet their eyes. He didn’t look troubled, more... _pensive_ , but Jack immediately knew that he didn’t want Ray to carry around any guilt or any weight of the knowledge that the deaths of several people may be on his hands.

“Of course not,” Jack said, backtracking, and speaking loudly over Gavin when he began to affirm it.

“Wot?” Gavin turned to face him. “Of course he—”

“Didn’t. The fuel canister exploding wouldn’t have been strong enough to blow a car up,” Jack dismissed, waving a hand away for emphasis. “It just startled them. They lost control of the car. It flipped, remember? Before it went up in flames? They lost control and flipped their car.”

Gavin didn’t look convinced, but Ray looked like he was mulling it over.

“Just think about it,” Jack sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But what if the explosion reached something flammable in their car?” Gavin pushed, after a moment of thought. “Like the headlight fluid, or the petrol, or—”

“Yeah right,” Jack scoffed. He yawned, watching Ray out of the corner of his eye. "Headlight fluid."

"It's real, it could have happened," Gavin protested, but it was quietly, and Jack didn't bother responding.

After a moment, he saw Ray shrug, as if to say _whatever_ , and Jack didn’t know whether he’d done the right thing or not.

“Let’s get some food,” the smaller man said aloud, after they'd stood in silence for long enough that it began to get awkward. Gavin immediately looked more interested.

“God yes,” he groaned. “Come on. We can dig into what we brought, then catch some fish, and I’ll tell you about the place. You comin’, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “I need sleep. You do, too.”

He knew they wouldn’t listen, but he hadn’t expected them to, and he was admittedly relieved to have some peace and quiet. He could hear Geoff’s snores from the other room, and the smile he aimed at the ground was partly exasperated, but any sense of affection he felt was immediately overwhelmed by the wave of tiredness that hit him.

It wasn’t quite exhaustion, but the mental strain was more than enough to send him stumbling towards the couch, looking for the sweet embrace of sleep.

He drifted off quickly, but not before his mind was snared by the passing thought, the wonder that made him question whether he’d done the right thing in telling Ray he wasn’t directly responsible for the deaths of those men. And, just as important, whether it was true or not.

He didn’t know, and he had no way to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [ragamuffiin](http://ragamuffiin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! <3


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